


Names

by Oumy



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, M/M, Other, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, References to Depression, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2019-09-20 13:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 72,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17023137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oumy/pseuds/Oumy
Summary: Alec Lightwood is taking his rightful place as the Emperor of Idris. Magnus Bane is the Crown Prince of Edom, visiting Alicante to swear allegiance to a man he's never met. Or is he?Based onthis prompt.If you need a sketch of the Empire to help you out, checkthisout.If you live-tweet this, make sure to tag me on Twitter as @OumyLightwood or use #NamesFic so i can keep track and fangirl with you. Enjoy !





	1. The Foe

 Alexander Gideon Lightwood III was a man of honor. He didn’t know much about much, but he did know this, which is why he felt really guilty imagining shirking his duties, throwing his entire council out of the room and just finishing the book he started last week.

« Are you listening, Alec? » said Jia, shaking him out of his reverie. As his head council and his late father’s second in command, Jia Penhallow was the only one he would let address him with such familiarity. His father certainly never allowed it.

Alec ignored her frown and looked each of his councilmen over « Ladies, gentlemen, you seem to have forgotten that I’ve been ruling this empire for the past year. The fact that we are now making it official does not mean I’ve forgotten how to talk to dignitaries or how politics work »

Lady Herondale, ex-war general and one of the wisest people he knew slightly bowed her head and spoke in her strong commanding voice, « Forgive us your Majesty, we just want the allegiance ceremony to go as smoothly as possible. You know as well as I do that the kingdoms that have been less than satisfied with the Empire’s ruling will try their best to cause mayhem and rebellion in these trying times. We’re all a little wary that everything seems to be going easily, a little too easily! »

Alec wasn’t a fool. He knew that Edom and DuMort hadn’t given up the fight. Sitting at the southern borders of the Empire, these two small countries have been trying to separate from the Empire since his great grandfather had been Emperor, unsatisfied with the regulations Idris imposed on all territories under its rule. If it had been up to Alec, he’d have given these kingdoms their rights and let them be a long time ago, but even he wasn’t as naïve as to think that they would just go in peace. A lifetime of looking over his shoulder for Edomai mercenaries taught him that. Besides, his was a line of greedy people who relished power just a little too much. Who knew, maybe now that it was up to him, he’d be able to do something about the situation.

A cough made him raise his head to the door of the council room, where he found his guard twirling his finger in a motion to wrap this meeting up. He was right. Dwelling on why somebody wasn’t trying to assassinate him before he ascended the throne wasn’t really a productive way to spend the morning. « Lady Herondale, I assure you we’re taking all necessary precautions to make sure nothing bad happens. After all, you trained our war general yourself! There is nothing we can do at the moment but welcome our guests and try to get this whole ceremony matter over with as soon as possible so that we can actually do some real work. You’re all dismissed ». He stood, as not to give them time to try and get him into more inane conversations.

As he walked through the doors, his guard fell into step beside him. “I swear you have the patience of a saint, Alec. I’d have walked away from that room two minutes in. You lasted an hour!”. With his ever-present smirk on his face, Steven Underhill looked like he was just asking for trouble. Normally, he would be when he wasn’t on duty. All the ladies’ maids fell over themselves to try to catch his eye, not that he noticed much. Steven was all about the new male recruits in the barracks.

Steve had two default setting in life: Loyal guard that would lay his life for Alec’s regardless of Alec’s own disdain of the thought, and the Palace resident Casanova. He took pride in the title and loved to needle Alec about how he spent his life like a monk. To be honest, Alec would add the title of best friend to those two, but don’t let his siblings know about that. He wouldn’t have to worry about the mercs because Iz and Jace would have his head.

“Well, I guess it’s fortunate the duty falls into my lot and not yours”

“Not that your morning’s anywhere near over”, Steven grumbled, “The council is trying to exhaust you to death before you ever ascend, I swear. Next, you’re off to welcome the DuMort emissary. He should be arriving at the Great Hall in ten minutes”.

“Isn’t Jace supposed to be here for that?” “I am”, grumbled the surly voice of his brother to his right. Alec didn’t know how he didn’t hear him coming with all the jingle and jangle his twin blades were making, being strapped to his hips like that. He looked absolutely ridiculous, and Alec couldn’t suppress a chuckle at the sight.

“Who signed you up for circus performance this morning, brother?”. Jace gave him a withering glare and moved past him to get to the Great Hall first, instructing the guards positioned at the doors to keep the doors locked behind them until it was time to receive the DuMort party.

“You think you’re funny? You think I want to be anywhere near these DuMort people? You should thank the Angel these meetings require the presence of a war general and not your weapons’ master. Iz would have had the entire arsenal strapped to her back. I’d much rather be back at the barracks, shouting orders and making first year grunts throw up their breakfasts”. Despite the evil grin he gave him while saying those words, Alec knew Jace wouldn’t be anywhere else if he could. Herondales have always taken pride in their long lineage of protecting the throne, and Jace had been raised since birth to think of his duty as his passion in life. Some might call that sad, but Alec knew Jace wouldn’t choose another job for the whole world, though sometimes he wondered if Jace would’ve taken such pride in it if he had had more things in common with his grandmother.

For all intents and purposes, Jace had been raised among the Emperor’s children, right alongside Izzy and Alec. It was his father’s decree, and probably the only good thing the old man had done in his life, for a war general who’d just lost her son wasn’t quite in the right space of mind to raise a child. Lady Herondale had left Jace with the Lighwoods, but had remained vigilant to give him a training worth taking over her position one day. Jace hadn’t disappointed. He was anointed war general a year ago, right about the time Alec had taken the reigns of the Empire when Emperor Robert had fallen to his deathbed.

A knock at the door interrupted their banter, and a guard entered, holding a scroll that he delivered to Jace. “It appears our guests are at the gates. DuMort sent three people along with a retinue of guards. Commander Raphael Santiago, his valet Simon Lewis, and an attendant, Clary Fray”. Jace wouldn’t stop scratching at his wrist, and Alec had to draw his hand away lest he rip away his leather band. “Would you stop it? You’ll mangle your wrist” he said. “Sorry” Jace replied, “my names are itching like crazy”.

The names were just that, literal names written on the inside of the wrist, tattooed there by fate and destiny. Alec considered them the greatest gift and the worst curse, telling you three things about your life; your greatest love, your fiercest enemy and your biggest ally. Nobody knew when it started, nobody knew how it happened, why it only happened to people of Idris or how fate chose their names. One second, you’re a carefree child of nine, the next you feel a slight buzz on your skin and you’re a ten-year-old with a destiny written in ink, literally.

For something every Idrisian dealt with, the legends around the names were all shrouded in mystery, with no confirmed facts or theories, which could be understood when you realized your names could hold your life in the balance. Wars have been waged for those names written on skin. Lovers’ quarrels and enemies clashing, so much so that it became common practice to wear a leather band around your right wrist from the age of ten, hiding those three intimate pieces of your soul from the world, till a time where you chose to reveal them.

Which suited Alec just fine. He didn’t want anyone seeing his wrist, didn’t want anyone reading his names and didn’t appreciate people asking him if one of his names had come true. He’d spent thirteen years trying to figure it out for himself, and he still had no idea how answer those questions, not because his names are more sensitive information than most, and not due to any of the rumors circling amongst the nobility of Idris, but simply because he only had one name on his skin, and he had no idea what to make of that.

Even his siblings knew nothing of it. He knew Jace would worry, and Izzy would make a big fuss contacting every elder in the Empire trying to understand why and how and find the way to fix it. Alec didn’t want to be fixed, he just needed to never meet his name and thus would never have to wonder if his name was a friend, a foe, a lover or worst, the three of them combined. With his luck, it would be. He would be the glitch in an infallible centuries old system of fate. Given that he managed to spend the last thirteen years of his life never even hearing the name, let alone feeling it pulse on his wrist, he thought it was safe to assume he’d be able to get away with it, but not his brother apparently.

“You know what that means, Jace. You already know your ally. It could go either way, really”, Alec mused. If the fact that you had names detailing your fate written on your wrist wasn’t enough to tempt you, the names pulsed to tell you when a first meeting with one of them approached. It was a divine warning to pay close attention, lest you ended up crossing paths with these crucial people and dismissing them. “I would think it was someone in the DuMort party, but none of their names are mine”, Jace replied, still trying to scratch the itch away.

“It could be the guards”, Steven guessed. “I’ll get you a list of their names so we can be sure nobody’s going to try to shank your pretty face in your sleep, or worse, try to kiss it”.

Jace smiled at him saucily, giving him what he thought was a seductive look. Alec thought he looked like he was trying to digest a bad turnip. “You’re just jealous somebody else is trying to kiss my pretty face. Admit it, you want it so badly to be you”. Steven gave him a mocking glance and looked ready to deliver a line that would have Jace’s inflated ego dented and bruised by the end, but Alec tuned them out. He was used to the flirty banter that went nowhere. Jace wasn’t interested in Steven that way, and Steven had too much sense to actually pine for Jace. They just liked to needle each other to pass the time, and he suspected, to chip away at his sanity.

A knock sounded at the door, followed by the guards opening the doors wide to admit three people, flanked by two guards in black, all of them sporting a paleness Alec knew was part of their heritage. It was never sunny in DuMort. They had the longest nights and the dreariest of rainy days all year long. A summer there had sucked Alec's soul out of him, and his wasn't a sunny disposition to begin with. A man wearing a fine black cloak stepped forward, bowing his head slightly toward them. Alec scanned him and his companions and had to make a conscious effort to relax his muscles where he stood on the dais, to make his face blank and impenetrable. "Commander Santiago, it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance", he said coolly. That was the only thing Alec had learnt and appreciated about his father's tutelage. It had given him the unaffected façade he could throw out to the world whenever needed. It was coming handy today.

"Raphael is enough, your Majesty. There is no need to stand on such formality. I am, after all, your servant", the man replied, showing none of the reverence his words were supposed to inspire. Alec could feel Jace tensing next to him, ready to teach the man some humility, but Alec made a slight staying gesture. The last thing they needed was a diplomatic incident with a DuMort representative. " My Queen sends her regrets for being unable to attend the ceremony herself. Some issues came up that were too urgent to postpone", Raphael continued.

"I am sure Queen Camille had a very important reason to miss the celebrations. After all, I am aware of how much she loves Idrisian entertainment". He wanted to say more, but his attention was diverted by the man standing on Raphael's right. He was slight, with spectacles perching on the end of his nose and the most energetic aura about him. He was inspecting the room with an open curiosity that seemed to clash with the surly attitudes of his companions. A pang hit Alec's chest. He reminded him of Max. His baby brother had had that same wonder about anything and everything. The thought of him on this particular day sobered Alec enough to make him ask the man "Is this your first visit to Idris?"

The man started, looking around him as if to make sure Alec was actually addressing him "Oh, oh yes your Highness... I mean, your Majesty. Commander Raphael's usual valet took ill and he needed someone with him". Raphael seemed disgruntled that the valet was sharing too many details and gave him a speaking glance, whereas their third companion kept her head down, though Alec thought he saw a slight smile through the curtain of fiery red hair she was hiding behind. Jace seemed frustrated and on edge, so Alec though it prudent to diffuse the situation before his brother did something drastic. "I'm assuming you're winded from the long journey. An escort will show you to your rooms for some rest. Your guards have enough room in the barracks. We'll reconvene here tomorrow when the rest of the dignitaries are here. Enjoy Alicante, and be sure to let the servants know if we can make your stay here any more pleasant". He motioned for one of the guards at the door to escort them.

The DuMort party looked like it heaved a collected sigh of relief and Alec had to repress a burst of laughter. Did they expect him to order them to the gallows?

Raphael sketched another bow and very effectively shepherded his people out of the room with a "Thank you for your hospitality, your Majesty" hastily thrown in.

In the ensuing silence, Jace spoke first "Am I the only one who thought that was painful? Not to mention suspicious! Why were they so nice? And why was that Clary girl hiding her face? It’s ridiculous". Alec made sure to maintain that same loose disposition and shrugged, only to be startled by Steven's wistful sigh " It makes me a terrible guard, but I was too busy admiring the fine fit of those guards. By the Angel, they look positively sinful with that dark hair and pale skin". Alec just sighed. This was going to be a long week.

* * *

 Magnus Bane was in purgatory. He was sure of it. For a person who lived in metaphorical Hell all year long, he felt like he was an authority on what constituted purgatory, and this mess he was in, definitely qualified. He didn’t even know what to focus on, the mulch he was wading through, the mud on his pristine trousers, the wet overcoat or the humid suffocating heat. Or you know, he could just focus on the broken wheels of the carriage just sitting there in their sorry state, looking back at him as if to commiserate on their shared misfortune. He knew his father hadn’t sent him to Alicante with specific instructions to the horses to run off and break the wheels halfway through the woods, but he couldn’t feel as if he would cackle at the happenings.

His valet and his driver seemed so flustered and worried that he’d have their heads for the inconvenience. The joys of his father’s household, he assumed. Terrified servants and skittish horses. So, he stayed out of their way, and took Jerrico out of his chest for a walk. Well, a slither was a more apt word as he watched the serpent move through the forest grounds, looking for a squirrel or some other creature he could snack on. He wished his life was that elementary.

A ninny of horses made him look up the pathway his carriage had taken, and he watched another carriage, being pulled by four white stallions, approach. It would be just his luck to stumble upon some important people in this state. The carriage halted right beside him, and he could see the wolf howling at the moon painted on the side. Ah, the Moon coat of arms. Good company, he thought. The carriage door opened to let a broad man exit. He had a kind face filled with laugh lines and eyes that carried a hint of mischief. Magnus had never met the man, but he could wager all the gold in Edom that he was looking up at Lucian Greymark, king of Moon Country.

“You seem in a lurch, friend. Any assistance needed?” Lucian said. “Yes, as you can see, we stopped for a break and my horses decided it was a great idea to roam the woods. Only, they forgot they were tied to a carriage and snapped my wheels in half. I should introduce myself. Magnus Bane, Crown prince of Edom. I’m travelling to Alicante for the ceremony this week”, Magnus finished with a slight inclination of his head.

Greymark’s smile just widened and he good heartedly slapped Magnus on the back, utterly confusing him because weren’t all royals in the north supposed to be snobs and complete elitists? Why would him being an Edomai be a welcome development? “Well then, you are in good company, my friend. I am Lucian Greymark”, he confirmed, “And I am heading to Alicante myself. You are very welcome to join me”. Magnus felt conflicting emotions of dread and relief. He didn’t want to get to Alicante so soon, not with his mission there, but he was also sick of the heat, and his clothes looked positively appalling. He told himself to quit moping around. He knew that he’d made promises, had no illusions about what his stay in Alicante was going to be like, but Magnus was a man of his word. He’d get it together, do what needed to be done, and hopefully, walk out of there with his head still attached. It really wasn’t an obvious outcome at this point. With a determination he knew was wobbly and crumbling at best, he took the older man up on his invitation. They took Magnus’ valet and some of his luggage with them, and made arrangements to send a carriage back for the driver who was stuck watching the rest of it. Magnus subtly put Jerrico in his little box and put it on his lap, afraid the little thing would freak out the horses or their new companions.

Since leaving home a few days ago, Magnus’ guts shriveled up more the closer they got to Alicante. He’d almost wept when they’d crossed the border to Idris a day ago, hating everything about this situation. Surprisingly, the last leg of the journey went differently. He had Lucian’s good humour to thank for that, he supposed. The man was a jovial fellow, with a gentle disposition, and wisdom that seemed beyond his years. Lucian explained to him how close he was to the Lightwoods, which Magnus should have held against him, but found he couldn’t. Apparently, they were so close due to Lucian’s daughter being married to the Emperor’s. Her name was Maia, and Lucian explained to him how he’d dragged her forcefully to a ball at the Palace one day, when all she wanted was to read at home, and how the second they got there, she’d taken one look at a beautiful woman in a red gown and never went back home at all. He’d heard tales of Isabelle Lightwood’s beauty before. In fact, he’d heard that the entire family was blessed by the hands of the Angels. Magnus had always thought of it as old wives’ tales, told to make the people of the Empire feel awe and humility towards their oppressors. After all, worship ruled mightier than fear, and who’d want to rebel against a name blessed by the Angels. Lucian continued telling him about his daughter’s wife with the merriment of someone used to embellishing this story time and time again, and though Magnus remained quiet but for a few smiles thrown here and there, he found himself wondering how someone raised by a gentle soul like this man could fit in with a bunch of coldhearted cruel Lightwoods. It seemed improbable, but what did he know about love and the institution of marriage. His one foray into the matter had left him with a chunk of his soul adrift and a staggering debt he was paying to this day, but dwelling on the subject wouldn’t do him any good, not when he looked out the window, and saw the gates of the Palace. They’d entered Alicante at sunset, and as he watched the flickering torches set up against the walls of the Emperor’s home, he had to begrudgingly admit that the city was the most beautiful he’d ever seen. Nothing like the never-ending desert of his home, nothing like the red sand that got into every nook and cranny. Lush greens adorned the walls, and as they cleared the gates unperturbed -apparently, Greymark was a frequent visitor-, he marveled at the castle. What caught Magnus’ eye was the practicality of it. He’d expected gaudiness and flashy tones, but was amazed by how understated it looked, like a homestead instead of a mausoleum to appease the masses.

His surprise must have been evident by his expression because Lucian piped up “It didn’t always look like this, you know. When Emperor Robert was in the seat of power, there was a jewel encrusted something or other in every part of the castle. As soon as Alexander unofficially took over though, he changed things around here. I have a feeling you’ll like him, our new Emperor. He’ll make a fine leader”. He looked so proud and Magnus felt like the world’s biggest fraud, sitting there listening to this good man wax poetic about his new Emperor, unaware of Magnus’ intentions. The carriage suddenly stopped, a uniformed guard reaching over to open the door, greeting Lucian like a distant cousin coming home at last. He seemed to know his way around the place, so Magnus just followed him, holding his little box to his chest, leaving the servants and his valet to deal with the luggage, and finding someone to send back to the forest in the morning.

They went through a huge foyer furnished in dark wood and forest greens and Magnus was hit with this instant longing for a place that felt as homey as this. The thought hit out of the blue, but he supposed he’d never walked through his father’s castle and felt at ease. The walls always seemed to echo with loneliness and the floors would always tap to the rhythm of a chasm in his heart that just wouldn’t mend. He shook his head to dispel the weird musings and focused ahead, right in time to hear voices coming from a doorway to the left. Suddenly, Lucian, who was walking a few steps ahead of him abruptly stopped, only to be attacked by a flying mess of limbs and garment that squeezed him tight. An entrancing laugh tinkled his senses, and he found himself smiling along. This must be Maia.

Lucian had left out the part about her being a staggering beauty, but Magnus knew her instantly. She had the same effect on him that her father had. A sense of calm and poise that was innate. After hugging her father thoroughly, she turned those dark eyes on him and said “I heard someone else had accompanied my father and thought he’d brought along a date. You don’t look like my father’s date though”. Magnus wanted to smile at her disgruntled expression. He had a feeling he was really going to like this woman. “I wouldn’t be so lucky, I’m afraid”, he said indulgently.

“Oh, hush, the both of you. Maia, this is his Highness, Crown prince Magnus Bane, from Edom. He’s here for the ceremony. He had a little trouble with his carriage, so I offered to help”. Maia looked back at him at those words, sizing him up all over again. Magnus was impressed, honestly. Most people became wary and stiff once they knew he was from Edom. After all, they didn’t call them the bane of the Empire just for their last name, but Maia seemed curious, even intrigued by who he was. She curtsied lightly and said “Nice to meet you, prince Magnus. Forgive my poor manners. My wishes for my father’s happiness sometimes overcome my gentile upbringing.”. She threaded her arm through Lucian’s and practically dragged him along “Now, come on, the both of you. Alec will want to see you both before he retreats to bed. The poor thing’s been running ragged with all the preparations and welcoming committees”.

Magnus’ heart started beating faster, panic overtaking his limbs. He thought he’d have more time to get his wits about him, to think. He’d settle just for a fresh set of clothes, but you didn’t keep the Emperor waiting, he supposed dourly. His Majesty probably needed his beauty sleep to maintain the angelic aura blessed upon him, and who was Magnus to interfere with that schedule!

Maia led them to another doorway than the one she’d come through, all the while explaining that the Lightwood siblings were all waiting for them in the Great Hall. Oh joy! Magnus thought. More Lightwoods were exactly what he needed right now. They approached a double door and the guards snapped at attention, knocking then opening the door inward.

Magnus walked in, head held high, adamant not to let these snobs feel how nervous and wary he felt. He saw three people standing on a dais, and he immediately dismissed one of them as a guard by his uniform. The other two, he granted his full attention. He saw a beautiful dark-haired woman who was looking at Maia like she hung the stars. This must be Isabelle, he thought, feeling a pang in his chest at the adoration she seemed to emanate as she gazed upon her approaching wife. His gaze was snagged then, by a towering blond who was already looking at him, scowling so fiercely Magnus was taken aback. He hadn’t already messed up his mission, had he? The blond hair, so different from Isabelle’s gave his identity away. Jace Herondale, war general of Idris. Well, that explained the scowl, he supposed. He’d be miserable if he had to deal with armies everyday too. Then Magnus’ gaze fell upon the only sitting person in the room, and everything else fell away.

Magnus had never been the spiritual sort, never went to temple, never asked the gods for anything, and never once used a turn of phrase that thanked any divine power. He just thought it to be absurd. But right there, standing in that Hall, Magnus knew the tales about the Angels blessing the Lightwood line to be true, because how else could a man so beautiful be explained. Magnus had never felt such a guttural reaction to someone, and he honestly didn’t know what to do about it. It wasn’t the dark hair he wanted to skim his fingers through, or the big hazel eyes that he could get lost in forever, or the strapping form that looked sturdy enough to carry an empire. It was, and Magnus thought it was gaudy and corny even as he thought it, the angelic light that seemed to flow underneath his skin.

He understood now why the Lightwoods had ruled the empire unrivaled for centuries. If they all looked half as angelic as who he assumed was Alexander Lightwood, no wonder people thought they’d come as deliverance from the heavens to rule the Earth. Magnus knew it to be a falsehood, and still felt the urge to fall to his knees in worship.

His senses felt like they were finally emerging from the trance the Emperor had put him under, and his ears stopped ringing just in time to hear Lucian explain the serendipity of their acquaintance. Magnus gave himself a few more seconds to regroup then stepped forward, bowing at the figures looking at him curiously, still clutching the stupid box to his chest. Oh, why hadn’t he just kept it till tomorrow? “Your Majesty. Thank you for your invitation. I come to honor my father and my home. I apologize for my unseemly arrival. Circumstances worked against me, but King Lucian was gracious enough to assist”. He waited for an order to rise, a welcome. He’d settle for a clearing of the throat at this point. He just wanted to be dismissed to fall into bed and get his mess in order. Okay, and maybe he wanted to hear the man’s voice, just a bit. But silence reined the room. It was eerie enough that Magnus looked up, only to see everyone looking at Alexander with a bewildered frown, as if to nudge him to speak, but the man himself remained still. Magnus looked at him more closely. Maybe the angelic façade was all there was to it, and the Emperor was a dimwit underneath. Wouldn’t that be a cruel stroke of irony, he thought. Except, the more closely Magnus looked, the more he could distinguish an emotion in Alexander’s eyes that made absolutely no sense. He swore he could see absolute terror.

* * *

 He’d been close, so close. A few more days and he’d have ascended, and nothing and no one could mess with his future. Alas, it had always been his curse, he supposed, to be so close to what he wanted, and have it ripped away from him at the very last moment. The cruel hand of fate at work, making sure he never felt a moment’s peace. As he gazed upon the man who had introduced himself as Magnus Bane, Alec felt like a whisper of the wind would make him cry. Him, a grown man who’d been conditioned since childhood to control his darkest fears and wield his emotions like a shield, felt like he could weep. He hadn’t even cried when his baby brother was killed. He hadn’t felt the slightest inclination to shed a tear, only felt consumed by a cold ageless anger. He wished he could conjure that right then, for the anger wouldn’t have left him feeling so raw, but no…To the eternal amusement of life, he felt like curling into a fetal position and crying like a newborn, because that name he’d just heard, that name had been his constant companion for the last thirteen years and if he thought he’d somehow misheard it, then the stinging of his wrist was proof enough to convince him otherwise.

He gazed upon this man he’d thought about for so long, had imagined on so many lonely nights, hoping and wishing and dreading, and had to stifle the wild urge to sigh. He looked like a dream. Of course, he did. Even in his current state of mud and utter exhaustion, he looked like the finest thing Alec had ever seen. Tall frame, feline grace and refined manners, he looked exquisite. Dark mussed hair, eyes accented in black and bejeweled fingers that caught the light, he was a breath of fresh air on a hot summer day, and Alec felt himself praying to whomever would listen that this man would be the name he longed for. He knew better than to hope, but still, he hoped this man was a name he could love.

A throat clearing snapped him out of his contemplations, only to find everyone in the room looking at him funny. He realized they were waiting for his answer on something. He looked at Isabelle, and she motioned her head towards the newcomer, mouthing “Welcome him”. Honestly, his sister saved him from complete embarrassment at least twice a day, so he just looked back at Magnus and said “Welcome prince Magnus, and thank you for coming. I won’t keep you long as I know you must be exhausted. Someone will show you to your room, and I’ll see you on the morrow”. He knew he was basically pushing the man out of the Hall very quickly, but he felt that another minute spent in his presence would have him bursting at the seams. He had more fires to put out before he could take to his bed, and he wanted this man out of his sight so he could have the capacity to think straight for a minute.

“Oh”, answered a flustered Magnus, clearly not expecting outright dismissal, “Thank you, your Majesty, for being so quick with your generosity, but I have a gift I’d like to deliver first, if it is okay with you”. He stepped forward as if to give him the wooden box he was holding, and Jace stepped in his way, as if to inspect it himself. For all he loved his brother, Jace had no sense for diplomatic courtesy. He didn’t understand how inspecting a prince’s offering could offend an entire nation and cause a dire diplomatic faux-pas. On a normal day, Alec would let it play out just to see his brother make a fool of himself. It was basically his job as the older sibling, but it was midnight. He was tired, scared, could feel a migraine coming, not to mention that his wrist was still itching like crazy. The only reason he didn’t even attempt to alleviate the feeling was that he knew Izzy and Jace would zero in on the gesture before he could blink. So, he spoke before his brother could do anything stupid “Oh, that is very generous of you, your Highness. Please, step forward”. Magnus came up on the dais, and stood so close Alec caught a whiff of his smell. It was buried under the layer of grime and mud, so it was faint, but it was distinctive.

Sandalwood.

The man who’d come here in the dead of night to change his life smelled of sandalwood. It just seemed so mundane, so utterly familiar, and Alec suppressed a giggle. By the Angel, he really needed to get away for a minute. He looked at the box Magnus was holding up to him, deposited it on his lap and looked the man straight in the eye for the first time since this whole mess started. A shiver broke upon his skin, and he forced himself to utter the words “Thank you”. For some reason, Magnus seemed equally perplexed, and just inclined his head in acknowledgment.

Alec looked down at the box and lifted the lid. It happened so fast he didn’t have a moment to react. One second, he was opening the chest, and the next, his sister was holding a hissing snake by its head. A moment of pregnant silence reined, before chaos ensued and his brother and Steven were pulling their blades and pointing them at Magnus. You’d think two men pulling their weapons would scare the wits out of a nobleman, but Magnus was actually smirking like he knew something they didn’t. The sight gave Alec pause. So, that’s what it was about, then? He’d thought… it didn’t matter what he thought, did it? Fate had already spoken and the nasty witch didn’t care for his prayers. He felt it then. That click within that whispered to him of an unrefutable truth.

He remembered asking Isabelle once how she’d known Maia was meant to be her love and not her enemy or friend, for the name written on her skin simply told her she was one of the three. His sister told him that when she met her wife, she didn’t know for sure, but within their first conversation, had the faint idea that she could love this woman. Isabelle told him that as soon as that thought crossed her mind, a sense of rightness filled her, and she could swear an Angel laid their hand on her shoulder and told her she was right. That was how she knew. And right then, Alec believed her, because he could feel the knowledge flowing through him. Magnus Bane was meant to be his enemy. This gorgeous man with soulful eyes was sent by a higher power to stand against him. Weirdly enough, he felt relief. He’d always feared that he wouldn’t know which one was it. That had been his biggest fear when he realized he only had one name. But feeling the admission in his heart gave him a sense of peace. Hell, even his wrist had stopped burning. However, he also felt staggering sadness. He really didn’t understand why. He’d barely laid eyes on Magnus. Any hint of sadness, he decided, was probably due to the fanciful notions he’d entertained for years in the privacy of his own mind. No matter, he thought. This situation wasn’t about him, so he turned to his brother and best friend and said “Jace, Steven, put down your weapons. Are you out of your minds?”.

Jace whirled on him in shock “Are you serious? He just tried to kill you. If Isabelle didn’t have the reflexes of a cat, that snake would’ve torn off your face, Alec”.

Isabelle, who’d been putting the snake back in his box, looked up and said in complete calm “It’s a black mamba, Jace. It’s not the creature’s fault he’s been locked away in a box for a whole day. He was frightened”

Jace looked at her like she was insane and said “What does that have to do with the fact that he brought a snake? What kind of gift is that?”. He was basically shouting at that point and Alec knew the gossip would be spreading among the servants like wildfire. It was time to do some damage control and break up this joyful little meeting, before he followed Alexander Lightwood I’s example and ordered everyone’s head on a platter. His temples pulsing, he told his brother in a tone he rarely used with family “An Edomai one, and as I have no time to educate the two of you on Edomai customs, you’ll just have to take my word for it and stop pointing a damned weapon at my guest, general!” He breathed out, then turned to his newest acquaintance “Prince Magnus, I apologize for my friends’ mishap, and thank you again for the lovely gift. He’s a beauty, and shall be well cared for in the menagerie with the rest of the animals” then spoke to all of them at once “But now, I will request that you take to your beds because I still have a few things to do before going to mine and I’m in too foul a mood to be gracious to anybody.”

“Not even you, Izzy”, he added when he saw her about to object. His frustration must have been evident enough, because things went much more smoothly then. Magnus bowed and apologized for any misunderstanding, and Alec tuned him out. He just wanted him to leave so he could breathe for a minute. He closed his eyes and waited till he couldn’t hear voices anymore.

“It’s him, isn’t it?”. The voice startled Alec so much he almost gasped. He opened his eyes to see Lucian standing alone, looking at him with the kind of sympathy only a man like him could offer. He’d always been the kind of person who would give you the shirt off his back, but to Alec, he’d been the only father figure he would ever know. His own father certainly wasn’t. The old man had taught him early on in life to think of him as his liege, nothing more. So, when a newly crowned Lucian had found his thirteen-year-old self, holed up in a study, unable to deal with the grief of losing his baby brother, he’d helped him talk about it, feel the pain and get through it, and ever since, Alec had felt a kinship to the man that had nothing to do with blood. Over the years, Lucian had become more of a father to him than his own. He was also the only person who knew about his name, probably because he’d never asked or even hinted. Alec had felt as if telling him would grant him some peace, and it had. Alec had never divulged what the name was, though, so he looked at his friend curiously. Lucian smiled and said “I’ve known you for ten years, Alec, and I’ve seen more emotion in your eyes in the span of the last hour, than I’ve seen in those ten years combined”. Alec couldn’t even drum up the indignation about being so transparent. He just nodded his head. Lucian gave him a speaking glance, as if to say “And?”. Alec let all his exhaustion out in the word “Foe”.

Lucian cursed under his breath and looked at Alec with the kind of understanding that stemmed from knowing the loss of a loved one, except Lucian had known love and lost it. Alec didn’t even get the chance. With that, he stood up and marched out of the Hall, patting his friend on the back and wishing him goodnight.

He walked through the dim hallways to his room. It was so quiet, even the flickering of the torches mounted on the walls could be heard. He enjoyed the silence for what it was, a momentary reprieve from the never-ending race that was his life. He always wondered when said race would end. Would it be when he became Emperor? When he died? What was he even racing for? At times like these, when the night consumed all his worries and troubles, it all seemed pointless anyhow.

His door came into view, and he pushed it open to find his well-lit room and his bed, looking so inviting. First though, he locked the door and started unlacing his boots. He heard a small click by the window behind his back, and almost smiled. It really was a relief to know one’s enemies, after all. He felt surprisingly calm and at peace for someone whose survival through the night wasn’t guaranteed. He waited for a moment, then turned around to face his visitor and said, “So, did you come to finish what the snake started?”

 

 


	2. The Assassin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope this answers some of your questions. Enjoy <3

With wide green eyes and that distinctive red hair dancing in the candle light, she looked like a cornered animal. Alec wanted to laugh. It was really invigorating to get the upper hand on some occurrence in this dreadful day.

"S-snake? I... I'm sorry your Majesty, I must've taken a wrong turn and entered your room by mistake. I'll leave". She stepped to the side, moving towards the door. Alec laughed out loud at that one. She sure was a terrible liar.

"Come on now, Clary. Or should I call you Clarissa? Nice move choosing a name so close to your own, by the way". He started tidying up his dresser, touching the handle of his grooming brush, the letter opener that was definitely in the wrong place, the little glass tumbler. He then uncorked a bottle of good DuMortian wine the Commander had brought as a gift. Had to hand it to them, manners before murder and all that. He normally wouldn’t want to be inebriated while talking to a trained assassin, but it was going to be a long night if she insisted on playing dumb, and murder tendencies aside, DuMort did make the best red wine in the Empire. “Care for a glass?”, he asked her, and almost burst into hysterical giggles at the look she was giving him. She probably thought he’d gone insane. She wouldn’t be far off after today. He took a sip then settled on the edge of his dresser “So, Clarissa, care to tell me who hired you?”. She froze then, as if remembering the original question he’d asked her, then turned to face him fully, pulling her shoulders back and taking a defensive stance he recognized well. He could appreciate that she didn't try to pull the ruse off for longer. He wanted to go to sleep sometime tonight.

"How do you know my name?"

"Because I know you! The prodigy assassin. The Institute's pride and joy. Valentine Morgenstern's offspring and most distinguished pupil. Should I go on with the titles or do you want to tell me who hired you?". He'd recognized her the second he’d seen her earlier with the DuMort party. That red hair and fit capable frame. Even undercover, she couldn't quite hide that quiet grace of a warrior. He knew that screaming "assassin" would have resulted in her quick death, and then they wouldn't be a step ahead of whoever hired her, and he had a good idea who it might be. Jace would never barter with his safety to begin with, and he’d been already on edge during that meeting. Any logical outcome would have been cast aside in the face of swift retribution. So, he'd bid his time, and the minute that damned snake had jumped at him, he knew that time was up. After all, assassins liked to get paid, and he could wager the idea of someone else hitting her mark was what had spurred her into action tonight.

Wide eyed, she whispered "Who are you?". Alec snorted, considering. He could tell her the truth, that he'd known her from his own time at The Institute, that he remembered the little girl that had to train aside, separately from the rest of the ranks because her father had higher standards for his daughter's tutelage, that he used to wish he could just go up to her and wipe that everlasting sad expression on her face and tell her that he understood the strain exacting fathers put on you better than anyone else, but he figured he didn't owe her any of his truths. She'd come here to end his life, after all.

“No need to concern yourself with that, miss Fairchild. I just need you to tell me the name of the person who hired you. Was it Queen Camille or Commander Raphael? and who in your party knows who you really are.”

Clarissa snorted and crossed her arms over her chest, giving him a disdainful glance “Why should I tell you anything? You’re going to kill me anyway”

“It’s poor form to act smug when you’re not sure you have the winning hand in a game of cards. You think you have this situation all figured out, where I’m the poor helpless Emperor whom you were sent here to kill, and I’ll either start screaming for my guards or be slow enough about it that you’ll still get to make your move and leave this room unscathed. Now, now, Clarissa”, he tutted, subtly reaching behind him for the letter opener “You know better than I do what your father’s first rule is”. He threw the small dagger so fast she didn’t have time to react. It got buried in the wooden frame of the window behind her, and blood spurted from the cut he’d managed to nick on her forearm, right by the dagger she was trying to subtly unsheathe. “Never underestimate your opponent”, he finished, and she finally looked up from her cut to give him a weighing glance, as if finally conscious that she wasn’t in the presence of an amateur.

“You were trained by my father”, she stated, seeming resigned to a fate worst than death. Honestly, he’d be offended by how easily she thought he’d resolve to murder if he hadn’t just launched a dagger at her from across the room.

“You could say that. He’s an incredible teacher. A complete nut, mind you, but a great teacher”

It was a well-kept secret that had remained a Lightwood family tradition for centuries. When he was nine, he’d read a journal belonging to Gabriel II, one of Idris’ greatest Emperors. He vividly remembered a passage where Gabriel described chess as a massively flawed game, mainly because the King was always the weakest link. Take away those who surrounded him and he was a defenseless ninny who’s just waiting for you to take the throne. Lightwoods didn’t wait around for threats to come to them, unprepared and in constant worry. That wasn’t the smartest strategy to rule an Empire with an iron grip for centuries on end. Therefore, it was decreed that every Lightwood that had ever risen to power was provided with the proper tools to ensure he would rule fiercely, wisely and for a very long time. Training in the world’s best assassin’s guild was part of it. Alec had been sent there for a year, under an alias so he could fit in unnoticed. The rest of the world had thought him to be studying diplomacy in Doddyle, which certainly proved that people often believed what you wanted them to believe. As if someone would voluntarily spend a whole year in King Azazel’s company!

It was why nobody had argued with him when he’d made it clear he would keep a personal guard during duty hours for appearances’ sake, but had the freedom of being unattended otherwise. Nobody dared suggest he couldn’t handle himself properly.

“What are you going to do with me, then?”

“Well, I’m going to extend more generosity your way and ask you one more time to tell me who hired you. And no, you’re not dying tonight, so quit looking so morose so we can both go to sleep”

She looked positively bemused by his behavior, but probably decided against questioning his intentions again and sighed “Queen Camille hired me to kill you before the ascension”. Just as he suspected.

He really couldn’t take offense. Camille was notorious for her underhanded methods of getting her way. He wondered what her aim was. Did she think to take over the Empire? Even the idea was laughable. The other rulers would never stand for it. Cause an uprising? Again, there were much easier ways than straight out assassination. He had to play his cards right, figure out her goal before she actually managed to succeed. He looked back at Clarissa and asked wryly “I don’t suppose she shared her reasons why?”. Clarissa actually laughed at that. It was a sound that surprised them both, shy and rusty, as if her vocal chords weren’t used to the motions of it. “No, I can’t say she did”, she confirmed.

Alec thought about it, then figured the best way to get to the truth would be through either Commander Raphael, and he doubted the surly man would be much of assistance, or… He asked Clarissa who else knew about the plan. “Just the commander”, she said, frowning “Though I don’t think he was a fan of it, to be fair. I heard him arguing with Camille before we left for Alicante. He told her that it was a bad idea and that he wanted nothing to do with her and her crazy red-haired demon”. She smiled, “I think I was supposed to be insulted by that”. From the smile etched on her face, she was more likely flattered. Weird woman.

He got to the chase, “What about the valet?”

“Simon?”. Confused, she shook her head “Oh no, he’s harmless. He thinks I’m an attendant, here to cater to Commander Raphael’s demands. He’d probably be horrified if he knew the truth. The guy wouldn’t hurt a fly”, she finished with an indulgent smile on her face, as if remembering the guy. And _there_ was his in. He needed to get the guy alone for a minute. A problem for tomorrow, he supposed, as he found himself fighting a yawn. It seemed the wine had just made him drowsier.

“Alright then, Clarissa. Here’s how we’re going to play this; You’re going back to your room, and acting like this conversation never happened. Starting tomorrow, you’ll act normal, and if Commander Raphael asks if you’ve found any way to kill me or why it’s taking so long, make up a reason why you’re not making any progress.”

“And what will you do? Are you saying you’re just going to let it go? Let me go?”, she looked skeptical, as she should be. He _was_ a Lightwood after all.

“As long you don’t try to kill me again, my problem isn’t with you. No need to concern yourself with how I resolve the problem”. He tilted his head, considering “In fact, I’ll do you one better. Do what I said and stay out of trouble, and I might even be amenable to free you from the Clave”. Clarissa turned so still, he could swear she wasn’t breathing at all.

Assassins were mostly young orphans and homeless children Valentine collected off the streets of the Empire and to whom he promised shelter, food and life skills. When an assassin finished the grueling nine years of training in the guild, they were considered indebted to him for all the expenses the Institute had spent on feeding, sheltering and teaching them. The expenses amounted to astronomical sums that no common person who’d been doing nothing but training for nine years could afford. If you couldn’t afford to pay the Institute back, Valentine then offered you a position in The Clave, which basically meant that you were an operational assassin for hire, and Valentine got to take more than half your wages as commission, and expected you to slowly pay back the debt you’d accumulated from the rest, a debt that kept on growing because you were still being fed and sheltered by the Institute. It was a vicious circle that ensured Valentine had an endless supply of assassins at his disposal. If he knew the man well enough, he wouldn’t have spared his only child from the debt, especially not when there was no love lost between them, and Clarissa’s silence just proved him right.

“That’s a lot of money you’re promising”, she whispered, as if anything more would make him take back the proposition.

He shrugged, smirking “I think I can swing it, somehow”.

He was surprised to see the light that came over her eyes, like someone had just turned on the light “If you really mean that, then I’m going to earn that freedom. I want to help you”.

“Now, why would you do that?”

“Because I tried to kill you, and you offered me freedom. That tells me you’re either a very wise man or a really crazy one, and I think I’ll take my chances with you either way”.

Alec smiled. “Well, then. Listen carefully”.

* * *

 

Magnus had just bid his valet goodnight and closed the door behind him, when he heard a knock on the other side. Thinking the poor flustered man had forgotten something, he opened the door to reveal a most welcome sight.

"Raphael! I didn't know you were here. Oh, do come in".

Magnus had known Raphael for most of his life. As a child, his father used to travel plenty to DuMort for business deals with Camille’s mother, Queen Maria, and he'd tag along just to spend a few days playing in the kitchens with Raph, who was the main cook's little brother. Rosa would let them clang among the pots for hours till it was time to wash up for dinner, then Magnus would go back to playing the dutiful prince and Raphael would be hidden away. Somehow, they managed to remain friends all these years, through Magnus' failed attempt at love, through Raphael working his way through the ranks in the army, through Raphael losing his big sister, and Magnus was forever grateful to have this man in his life.

He expressed that by stepping forward and hugging Raphael fiercely, stating "It's so good to see a familiar face". The goober obviously kept his arms down and took the hug like most people took torture by fire ants.

"Okay, that's enough for now, Magnus. We saw each other three months ago", Raphael said, squirming out of Magnus' arms, as if three months was merely worth a wave from across the room. To Raphael, that was probably overdoing it.

"My valet came in, pestering me about the servants telling tales of a guest that tried to kill the Emperor with a snake attack, so I figured Jerrico had made quite the entrance", Raphael shared with a mocking smirk on his pretty face.

Magnus could feel the heat staining his cheeks, and groaned out loud. He threw himself on the bed, as dramatically as he could to irritate his oldest friend and said "Please, don't remind me. It was so embarrassing. I felt so small, especially when that Jacob guy kept trying to skewer me on the end of his blade"

Raphael looked confused "You mean Jace?"

Magnus waved that away, uninterested "I swear, Jerrico has never done that before. It was like he was possessed, but I guess seeing the Emperor's pretty face tickled his rattle", he looked at Raphael to see if he got the joke, and found him looking at him stoically. He really was no fun at all.

"And you explained the situation and apologized, I assume?". That's the thing, though. Magnus wasn't sure he did. The whole moment had felt like an out of body experience, from the second Jerrico had jumped out of the box, to the moment Alexander had thundered at them to leave the room. He wasn't sure of anything that had happened in those few minutes. He hoped he hadn't embarrassed himself even further.

Raphael seemed to get that no answer was forthcoming from his friend, so he changed the subject, to a drearier one, unfortunately "I'm surprised your father didn't come himself. I thought he'd at least try to cause a bit of chaos before the ceremony". Magnus flinched before he could stop himself, and Raphael zeroed in on the gesture. He tilted his head, arched an eyebrow and waited. Magnus hated when he did that. It managed to make him feel two feet tall "He _is_ trying to cause chaos. He just sent me to do it"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"He needed me to charm my way into the good graces of the other rulers of the Empire and convince them not to swear allegiance to Alexander"

"He really thinks you can do that? In the span of a week, no less?"

"I am charming!". At Raphael's skeptical gaze, he continued "And he's promising them wildfire shipments for their armies"

Raphael cursed under his breath, but didn't comment. There was no point doubting his father's word and Magnus knew better than to think Asmodeus operated on some moral code that would stop him from enabling such destruction.

Wildfire was a highly explosive composite that was mined underground. To his family's greatest joy, Edom sat on the biggest known source of it, and though being forbidden from mining or using it centuries ago by Idris, generations of Edom rulers had kept the secret of the wildfire under wraps, manufacturing it into operational weapons that can level a battlefield in seconds. There had never been any reason to reveal the secret before, but it seemed his father thought it was time to go all in.

"And you're okay with this?", Raphael asked.

"My opinion was never of consequence. It doesn't matter how I feel. I have a debt to pay, and I'm going to pay it"

"Magnus, you don't have to do this. You don't owe him anything"

He felt like they'd been having this discussion forever. "Yes, I do, Raphael. Being able to live my life freely reminds me of why I do. At least, he just wants the man not to ascend. It's not like he's trying to kill him"

Raphael grimaced and started fidgeting, which was so unlike him that Magnus was instantly alarmed. "Raphael?"

His friend sighed, and lifted his hands in a placating gesture "It wasn't my choice and it's not like I can stop her. You know that better than anyone"

Magnus felt himself go cold all over. A heavy weight settled in his stomach and panic stole over his nerves "Oh, Raphael. Please, tell me she's not having him killed before the ceremony"

Raphael looked at him apologetically and said "She sent this highly trained assassin from the Institute. She's supposedly Valentine's daughter or something"

The statement distracted Magnus from the impending panic enough for him to ask "Somebody actually slept with that man? Enough times to have a child?"

Raphael looked at him like he was an imbecile "Do I need to give you the talk about how conception works? You do realize it can happen from one attempt, right?"

"Yes, but the odds of that are pretty slim". He realized they were getting off topic and snarled at his friend " Stop trying to distract me. What were you thinking, agreeing to this?"

"You started the inane conversation in the first place, and you're one to talk. You're not exactly here on noble intentions, either"

"Yes, I'm here to end his reign, not his _life_ , Raphael!", he hissed.

He moved swiftly to the settee and grabbed his robe, putting it on as he walked to the door.

"Where are you going? It's almost dawn", Raphael asked warily, as if knowing the answer and dreading it.

"I'm going to fix this mess you made. And don't worry, I won't mention _you_ knew anything about it", he added when his friend opened his mouth to argue. "As for Camille, the bitch can rot in Hell for all I care. She's not destroying someone else's life and getting off, scot-free". He slammed the door on a gaping Raphael and started walking determinedly down the corridor.

He could've waited for the morning, he supposed. But the sheer idea of it being too late, of waking up to the news that Alexander was dead filled him with so much panic. All he wanted to do was make sure the man was alright, warn him of the danger ahead, then go back to trying to sabotage his reign. His logic was flawed at best, but logic didn't have much to do with his decision to roam the palace grounds at night looking for the Emperor's bedroom.

He was told that they were all guests in the Royal wing, so he knew the room was around here somewhere, but how was he supposed to find it in the dead of night? He kept passing corridors and he could swear he'd stumbled upon some sort of maze because these hallways were looking too similar for his tired brain. When he couldn't remember the path he'd taken and basically couldn't even find his way back to his own chamber, Magnus stopped and basically hugged the wall, trying to remember, only to be startled by a door opening on the far right.

A red-haired girl walked out, a small smile on her face. The second her eyes connected with his, her gaze widened then dropped abruptly. Her long mane basically covered her face and she started to move swiftly around him. He had just enough time to blurt out "Excuse me, is that his Majesty's room?". The girl's head lifted, as if surprised by the query, and she nodded stiffly before basically sprinting away. That's when he realized he hadn't waited long enough to ask Raphael what the assassin looked like. What if that was her? What if she'd just slit Alexander's throat and left him in his bedroom to be discovered in the morning?

He felt his heartbeat pounding in his ears, and his breath seemed to be stalling out. He didn't want to examine the reason why he was having this reaction. Now was the time to act. He'd get time to think later. He hurried to the door and lifted a fist to knock on the door, then halted as another thought crossed his mind. What if the redhead had been inside for another reason altogether? What if she was the Emperor's lover and he just made a complete idiot of himself coming to check on him? And why did the idea make his stomach churn worse than before?

He exhaled a long breath and steeled himself. He'll just do this out of human decency, to sleep a little easier at night, then he'll forget about the whole thing.

He knocked, and held his breath. _Please, be okay. Please, be okay_ , he chanted.

The door opened and he felt like sobbing. He didn't realize how worried he'd been until that very moment. Alexander stood there, looking unfairly beautiful with his bare feet, unlaced shirt and mussed finger-combed hair. His beauty hit Magnus all over again. He was mesmerized by a little patch of skin at the hollow of Alexander's throat. It looked positively sinful, just begging for someone to come close and kiss it. He shook his head. What was wrong with him? A sliver of skin, and he was almost drooling on the poor man, who by now was just holding the door, arching a dark eyebrow and waiting for an explanation to this awkward visit.

Magnus had been so sure something awful had happened, that he hadn’t bothered to formulate a proper explanation to his visit otherwise. But the man was looking at him like he was simple minded, so he had to improvise.

“I’m sorry to bother you, your Majesty. I hope I didn’t wake you”. Magnus remembered the redhead, and felt like kicking himself. Yeah, he hadn’t woken him, he thought sullenly.

“I was just about to go to sleep, actually. Are you lost or something?” He looked genuinely perplexed to see him standing there, as he should. It was almost dawn. Raphael was going to chew him out for rushing into this.

“No, your Majesty. I was actually hoping I could talk to you about something”

“At this time of night?”

“Yes, it can’t wait, you see”

“I think I’ll decide if something can wait until I’m more amenable to hear it, your Highness, and I’m not really in a hosting mood at the moment”

There it was. That Lightwood ego showing its head. Magnus had started thinking for a second that the man actually was as angelic as he looked; It was good to be reminded otherwise. Nevertheless, he wasn’t going to let him die for it, so he tried again “I assure you, your Majesty. It’s something you’ll want to hear. I couldn’t sleep before I talked to you about it”

Alexander sighed, and when Magnus thought he’d give in and hear him out, the man actually grumbled out “I know what you want to talk about. I told you it was fine when it happened. It’s not my fault that your sense of guilt kept you up at night. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting first thing in the morning and I have to be well-rested for it”. Magnus realized he was talking about Jerrico’s little jumping jack trick. Before he could correct him, Alexander started to close the door, and Magnus threw his hand up to stop him. He was honestly going to shut the door in his face, without even listening to him?

Magnus wanted to call him out for being a complete prick about this situation, but he looked at him closely enough, and for the first time, noticed the dark circles under his eyes, and the sallow pallor to his tint. He looked dead on his feet, and Magnus didn’t have the heart to argue with him any longer. He decided then to try again tomorrow, and in the meantime, he’ll just have to ask Raphael for a description of the assassin, and keep a lookout.

He stepped back and dropped his hand “You’re right, your Majesty. My guilt made me seek you out at this hour. I’m extremely sorry to have bothered you. I’ll bid you goodnight”. Alexander barely mumbled a “Night” and shut the door, leaving Magnus feeling cold, as if stealing all the warmth from the dark damp hallway.

Magnus looked at the closed door for a few more moments, and couldn’t help but feel like that interaction wasn’t nearly enough. Enough for what, he didn’t particularly know, but he’d wanted to bask in the glow of his presence just a little longer. That settled it, he was extremely sleep deprived! A condition he’d do well to try to remedy. With that, he started back down the hallway, stumbling his way through countless aisles, to finally reach his room.

* * *

 

After a cantankerous night of sleep, Alec dressed for his day and headed for the common dining Hall. It was not his usual morning routine, but he wanted to see someone before he got on with his day. He swept into the Hall, as if he had breakfast with these people every single day. He passed table after table filled with nobility and royalty here to attend the ceremony, nodding his head in greeting as he walked. It was the most frivolous thing, he thought, to come a week early to an event and spend the days leading up to it doing nothing but scraping and bowing and gorging yourself on feast after feast, but it was the way things were always done, and he didn’t have the heart to anger all these people just because he was a recluse who’d rather do his work in peace. He tried to inconspicuously see if the DuMort party had been seated already, but it seemed that they had not yet started their day. Point for him. He moved up to the long table at the far end of the room, and sat in his high chair. The table was empty, safe for Maia, who arched a brow at his presence. His brother must still be terrifying the soldiers in the training Hall, and Isabelle was _not_ an early riser. His mother, well, she hadn’t gone anywhere in public in years.

He sometimes forgot he had a mother. It was a terrible thought to have about the woman who raised you and sang lullabies to you at night, but it was the truth. He’d spent so long without her now, that he didn’t feel like she was there at all. They said each person dealt with grief in their own way, and perhaps it was true. His MO of shoving his feelings down was not the healthiest way to heal, but at the very least it allowed him to function. His mother had just given up. Max’s death had broken her so badly, she’d just given up on the rest of them. Was it fair to be bitter about it? About how she’d lost one son and forgotten about three children that needed her then more than anything? He remembered the feeling of helplessness, of rage that consumed him with every breath in those days following the attack, and he also remembered needing his mother’s arms around him, and only feeling the cold of their absence. He remembered Isabelle crying at the edge of their parents’ bed, asking Maryse to get up, begging her to make the ache a little less hard, and receiving nothing for her pleas. Every night he’d have to carry his ten-year-old sister to her bed after she cried herself to sleep, he’d try to remember that their mother had lost her baby boy, and that she was allowed to grief.

It became harder to convince himself of that as the days went by, and after a while, he’d learnt to just treat her the way she wanted to be treated, like a ghost of her former self, like a shell that no amount of love and care by those around her ever managed to fill. For some inane reason, Isabelle still tried. She still visited her room every day, still kept her gardens tidy and beautiful, as if a miracle would one day descend upon them and give them their mother back. He just couldn’t find it in himself to care, and he hated himself for the thought, but it remained the truth.

Maia’s hand on his forearm shook him from his morose thoughts, and he looked up to see her frowning at him “Everything alright, Alec?”

He smiled and nodded “Yes, just tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night”

“I doubt your sleep schedule will be anywhere near exemplary till the ceremony. I don’t envy you one bit”

“You wake up with the sun, Maia. It’s not like you’re still cocooned in bed like your wife”

The smile that came over Maia’s face was the reason he loved her so much. She had no qualms about loving as fiercely as she could, about caring freely and with a heart made of gold. If he had to handpick the best person to care for his little sister’s heart, he wouldn’t find anyone better than this woman sitting right beside him.

“I don’t know anyone who can hog the covers as good as Izzy, but she looks so adorable basically mummified in there I never have the heart to take them from her”

Alec laughed at her dazed expression and couldn’t help but tease “I tend to avoid getting a toothache first thing in the morning, so I think I’ll go sit by Prince Meliorn over there”, he nodded his head to where the prince of the Fairie lands was holding court, regaling his avid audience with his wild love tales.

Maia made a face “Even you’re not that much of a masochist! That man propositions you every time you sit by him. The last time I had to listen to him tell you all the various ways he’d make you loosen up, I almost cast my accounts at a dinner party. It was his mother’s birthday, by the Angel!”

Alec burst out laughing at the haunted expression on her face. Prince Meliorn did have a bad habit of making indecent proposals in the most inopportune places, but he was a harmless flirt, so Alec never thought ill of him. It sure beat annoying princes that showed up at your door at twilight, and demanded you give them an audience. Alec was still pissed off about that one, especially because he’d ended up thinking about it all night long, and barely had a wink of shut eye. The maddening man kept showing up where he least needed him to be, and by the Angel, how did one look dashing in sleep pants and a robe! It was as if the universe was just rubbing it in at this point. Here is this man that is basically everything you’ve ever wanted. He’s going to hate you and want to harm you in various ways. Enjoy!

Maia gave a final shiver and looked away from Meliorn to ask him “What are you doing here this morning, anyway? I sure appreciate the company at breakfast, but you never eat with us peasants if you can help it. What gives, brother?”. He had to smile at the nickname. He loved it when she called him that, so he was going to overlook the ‘peasants’ comment, for now.

“What? I can’t seek companionship in the morning without it being for some ulterior motive?” Just then, he saw the person he was looking for sweep into the Hall. Simon Lewis looked as happy and energetic this morning as he did yesterday. Clarissa had held off Commander Raphael somehow, just like they’d agreed. He lifted a hand to motion the valet to the table, and the man’s eyes became huge saucers of wonder before he approached. Alec had some plans to put in motion, before he could start his day properly. Maia saw the gesture, and exclaimed “Ah, it all makes sense. He’s kind of cute, in a nerdy scholar kind of way. Do you need me to be your wingwoman?”, she suggested with a cajoling smile.

Alec had to think fast. He hadn’t been planning on anyone overhearing this encounter, but there was no other way to make this look natural, as if he’d just stumbled upon the man, and invited him to breakfast. He was just going to trust Maia and hope she gave him enough time to come up with a decent story to tell Isabelle when she inevitably told her. He turned to her and said “Anything you hear right now, is a hypothetical situation I’m making up. Don’t act surprised, and by the Angel, just go with it”.

He had no more time to further explain before Simon came up to the table hesitantly and bowed “Your Majesty, your Highness. Good morning”

“Good morning. Simon, was it? Sit down, join us. How was your first day in Idris?”

The man seemed awed by the attention, but he pulled out a chair and sat down at the table “Oh, it was perfect, thank you your Majesty. The City is the liveliest thing I’ve ever seen, nothing like the glum streets of DuMort”. He froze as if realizing what he just said “Oh, dear. I’m sorry. Forget I said that. My country’s great. Oh, Raphael is going to kill me”. He looked so distraught that Alec actually felt a bit sorry for involving him in this mess, but this slip up just proved he’d be the perfect candidate, so he forged on. He waved his hand dismissively and said “Oh, don’t worry about it. Our streets really are more beautiful. I’m sure even Commander Raphael wouldn’t take offense to that”. He smiled reassuringly, and Simon deflated a bit. Alec maintained a calm demeanor through the breakfast meal, aware of the people around them, and his sister-in-law’s confusion about the warning he’d given her. She chimed in from time to time, and her calm personality seemed to be having the perfect effect on Simon. He was more at ease the more they talked, and by the time Alec had to put his plan in motion, Simon was content and glowing. He assumed a serious face and said glumly “Simon. I believe you’re a good man, so I’d like to ask you for a favor if it’s not too much of a bother, but I need to rely on your discretion in this matter”

Simon looked wary for a second, before tensing his frame and asking “Anything, your Majesty. I’d be honored to help”

“It’s come to my attention that an attempt on my life is afoot”. He gave a dramatic pause to let that one sink in. He felt Maia go still beside him, and almost laughed at the comical face Simon made. He looked appalled. He really was a good man, Alec decided, genuinely worried for a liege he’d only just met. “Oh, dear. I don’t know what to say, your Majesty. Do we know who it is? Who’s planning it? How can we stop them?”

“That’s exactly why I’m asking for your assistance. You see, we don’t know yet, and making this public knowledge would create a general mayhem that I wouldn’t be able to handle. Servants, on the other hand, make the best of informants. You’re inconspicuous, insignificant enough int the eyes of our guests to go unnoticed and you have a network of gossip that rivals the best spies of the Empire. Now, I know I could ask one of the Palace servants to poke around, but you have the added advantage of being new to the place, so asking questions wouldn’t raise as many red flags, and you’re naturally curious. Which is good thing”, he added when Simon blushed furiously “It means everyone will think your questions are harmless. Just ask around about abnormal behavior. If a new cook or chambermaid has been hired, if anyone’s roaming the hallways late at night… that sort of thing.” He looked at the fidgeting valet and asked gravelly “Can I count on you to do that? And remember, discretion is key. Nobody needs to know why you’re asking questions”. Simon started nodding before Alec finished his last words “Of course, your Majesty. It would be a great honor to help you solve this”.

“Good, good. I knew you’d be the man for the job, Simon Lewis. Thank you for your help”. Alec straightened and stole a glance at Maia to see her narrow-eyed glare. He was never going to hear the last of this when she got him alone, or worse, when she told Isabelle about it. But for now, she was still playing along, and for that, he was grateful. He scooted his chair backwards and stood “Now if you’ll excuse me. I have some papers to sort through. Enjoy the rest of your breakfast, and Simon, you can come to my office whenever you have something new to report”. The man nodded again, but stayed put, probably still absorbing what he’d heard.

He made it to his office without incident, so his sister was probably still asleep. He settled at his desk, and got started on his papers, reading contracts and sorting messes. Steven joined him an hour later, panting and looking positively disheveled, and with his coat on inside out, so Alec wisely kept his comments to himself and asked his friend to fix himself up then report for duty. Underhill just laughed and said he’d been right about the DuMort guards before leaving the same way he’d come. Alec actually managed to go through a few more contracts before he felt someone enter the office then close the door. He looked up to see Clarissa grinning at him from across his desk.

Alec took that to mean their plan was progressing well “Let me guess”, he started, and she laughed “It took him an hour to mention it to me. You were right, he’s _perfect_ for this”.

Alec was sure from the little he’d seen of Simon that the man wouldn’t be able to help himself. His desire to help would overthrow his need for caution; If he managed to spill the beans to Clarissa in an hour’s time, it was only a matter of time before he let something slip in front of the Commander.

“If he tells Raphael and he asks you?”, he asked Clarissa.

“I’ll say that I have no idea how the rumor started, but that it means I have to lay low for a while until you weren’t so wary and suspicious. Don’t worry, I know my lines”

Alec laughed. It did feel like they were in a play, and after the performance he’d given this morning, he certainly felt like a career in entertainment was a solid plan if this whole Emperorship thing didn’t work out.

“Alright, now get out of here before somebody sees you.”

She cringed and Alec felt his hackles rise “What is it?”

“I think that ship has already sailed. Last night, when I was leaving your room, I encountered a man in the corridor. He saw me leave, and asked me if it was your room. I didn’t say anything, just merely nodded and acted shy then left, but he saw my face clearly”

Alec swore under his breath. It must’ve been Magnus. He’d shown up mere moments after Clarissa had left. He must’ve thought something untoward, probably thought Clarissa was his lover or something. By the Angel, what a right mess!

Clarissa surprised him by uttering the same thought “He probably thinks I’m your lover. I say, just let him think that. It’d be better than him knowing the truth, and it’s not like you’re already committed to anyone. I say, just let it play out”

She was right. Why was he fretting? So what if the man thought Clarissa was actually someone he was involved with? It didn’t matter, _he_ didn’t matter, and Alec needed to get that through his head before he got himself into trouble. The man was his enemy, his greatest fiercest foe, and if he felt like forgetting that, all he needed to do was rip out his leather band and look at the name scrolled there in blaring ink, telling him to get his head together.

“You’re right. It’s probably nothing to worry about”, he reassured her. Before he could tell her to be more careful leaving this time, the door was opened, nearly torn off its hinges and a whirlwind of rage swept in. Only one person strolled into his office without knocking, and he felt himself cringe. He was not looking forward to this conversation, and convincing Isabelle that he was just trying out security measures in hypothetical scenarios was going to take all his powers of persuasion. Luckily, his sister had enough sense not to tear into him with company present. She looked at Clarissa curiously, and then back at him with an arched brow. Great, another person to think they were together was exactly what he needed, _not._ He looked at the redhead and said “Thank you Clarissa, that’ll be all”.

He realized his mistake the second Isabelle forgot she was there to scold him, turned to the girl and asked in a voice that would put his fiercest interrogator to shame “Clarissa? I thought your name was Clary; Clary Fray”. How she even knew that, when she hadn’t met the girl yesterday, Alec didn’t want to know. He attempted a breezy tone and said “It’s the same thing, Izzy. Let the poor girl go”. He should know better, honestly. Isabelle was like a dog with a bone when she caught onto something

Isabelle looked at the two of them then back at Clarissa, who was starting to look wary at this whole thing “No, it’s not. Clarissa opens plenty of other possibilities. Why are you lying about your name? Do you know then, is that it? Are you trying to avoid him or something?”.

At this stage, Alec felt like he’d completely lost his handle of the discussion, and was starting to worry for his sister because she was not making any kind of sense. From Clarissa’s expression, she felt the same way.

“Izzy, what are you on about? Why would she change her name, and who would she be afraid of?”

“Jace, obviously”, she said like that made anything clearer. It didn’t, at all. “Your name is Clarissa Fairchild, isn’t it?”. Clarissa’s frozen look, and the plea of help she was obviously giving him gave it away, and Izzy squealed so loud, and with so much glee on her face, and Alec suddenly understood. What a mess! The itching wrist from yesterday, the names that didn’t fit. Clarissa must be his brother’s name. He looked back at Isabelle to confirm “He told you the name?”

His little sister rolled her eyes at him, and said “Not everyone is as weird about privacy as you are. Jace and I showed each other our names years ago.”, she clapped her hands in glee and said “Oh, I can’t wait to tell him. The itch is making him grumpy but this’ll definitely lift his spirits”

“Names?”. Clarissa was looking between them in complete confusion, and he realized she had no idea what they were on about, which made sense. Not many people knew nor believed the story of the names. Only Idrisians did. Isabelle looked like she was about to launch into a detailed explanation so he beat her to the punch and said “Nothing to worry yourself about”.

He gave his sister a warning glance. They had to tread carefully. Not everyone was amenable to understand their predicament. He still remembered a few years back, when his friend Aline had met her heartmate and told her instantly that she was her name. Helen was from the Fairie lands and had had no idea what Aline had been about. Explaining how you were someone’s decided soulmate from the age of ten really wasn’t the best way to build a relationship with a complete stranger. Aline had nearly lost her name by being too hasty about it. Luckily for them, they actually managed to build something together, and now lived happily in the Fairie lands.

Alec understood the wariness. His parents’ marriage had taught him that being someone’s name didn’t necessarily promise love and affection. Telling a person who didn’t grow up with the culture that they had to trust that a name written on ink meant you had to give your heart to someone, unconditionally and trust that fate had made the right choice for you was absolutely terrifying. Alec had grown up with the culture, and still felt intimated by the concept, not that he had to worry about it anymore. Magnus Bane had made that very clear. So, to spare his brother the trouble, they were going to take this slow, actually make sure she was his love and not his foe, then slowly go about it.

Isabelle was still vibrating with happiness, so he thought distracting her from Clarissa was the best thing he could hope for “So, what did you storm in here for?”

Isabelle looked at him like he was an idiot “Oh, I’m getting there, but I won’t be easily distracted. Why did you say your name was Clary Fray?”. Alec had planned to tell his siblings about the assassination attempt, probably after he ascended and got the mess under control, but Maia’s presence this morning had ruined his plans, and he’d known he was on borrowed time. It looked like he needed to come clean and hope Jace and Isabelle didn’t grab a few hatchets and pay Camille a visit. He sighed then said, as calmly as he could “Because she was acting as an undercover assassin.”

Clarissa turned back to him in shock at the same moment Izzy screeched “ _Assassin?_ ”. She looked like she was going to jump on Clarissa right then and there, so he moved between the two and told his sister “You’re either going to let your hot temper get the best of you, and get nowhere, because I know for a fact Clarissa can handle herself against you. Or, you’re going to calmly take a seat, and let us explain everything?”. Despite her hot temper and fiery nature, his sister was a reasonable person, so she took a seat, but couldn’t help giving them both a dirty look and crossing her arms over chest in a clear “Well, get on with it” move. Alec took a seat, waited for Clarissa to do the same, before telling the whole sordid tale.

* * *

As Magnus listened to Princess Isabelle swear like a sailor at every sentence her brother uttered, he couldn’t help but chuckle quietly. Alexander didn’t cease to amaze him. So, he’d figured it out all on his own, did he! Magnus really hadn’t meant to listen in on what he supposed was a private conversation, but he’d come to see Alexander and try to warn him again this morning, and had found the door left ajar. He’d heard voices inside, and was just about to leave when someone had yelled something about an assassin. Obviously, he’d just stayed to make sure the man knew there was a threat on his life. He was glad he did. He’d been entertained with one of the wildest tales of his life.

So, Alexander Lightwood was a trained assassin? Magnus couldn’t help but find the man a hundred times more dashing knowing that, and he was already blessed by the Angles to begin with. He felt something just twist inside him to hear the way he’d offered that Clarissa girl the chance to earn her freedom. It went against everything he knew about the Lightwoods, and for some reason, he was relieved. He thought he’d feel terrible knowing he was there to dupe someone who actually seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, but for the first time since his father had ordered him to Alicante, he felt like this smart, cunning man can take whatever he could dish at him, that maybe he’d get to pay his debt and be done with it, and Alexander would still figure out a way to save the day. He seemed to take to an assassination attempt like a person would take to some wine spilt on his lapels. A coup would barely make the man twitch.

Magnus decided that his first impression of Alexander Lightwood had been right. He did have what it takes to carry an Empire on his shoulders, and just like that, his dread about being in Alicante turned into excitement. The feeling felt so foreign on him, like a pair of boots that hadn’t been worn in years, finally making a comeback. He knew the feeling stemmed from the man sitting in that office, reassuring his sister about his life. For the first time in the last three years since Camille had shred his life to pieces, Magnus felt like anything could happen, and with that, he took the same route he’d taken to get the office to step outside and fill his lungs with fresh air, and he smiled. Let the games begin!

 


	3. The Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey there beautiful people! I know this chapter took a while, but life is pretty busy atm so, apologies :)  
> This is the chapter that basically throws the main plotline in motion. Magnus finally starts making a difference.  
> I promise I'll be delivering on the fluff very soon, but in the meantime, you can still enjoy some Malec mean interactions... I think :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote some of my favorite words in this chapter and I hope they resonate with anyone as much as they did to me. Thank you for reading. Enjoy <3

Magnus closed the door behind him and heaved an exhausted sigh. It was barely mid-morning. He wasn’t supposed to feel so tired and drained already, but Azazel was a piece of work. He was a tenacious bastard and a vicious opponent in a negotiation. It wasn’t that the meeting hadn’t gone well. On the contrary, the man seemed very amenable to the plan, but it had also left him with a sinking feeling in his gut.

He was a fool to think he could do his father’s bidding and escape the guilt on the account he was being forced into it. According to the dread coiling in his disgruntled stomach, the peculiar circumstances of his actions didn’t hold any weight. All he could think of was how much destruction he was helping to create, and it was going to be plenty.

Azazel had looked like a kid in a playground when Magnus had confirmed the existence of Wildfire. He’d been frothing at the mouth to get his hands on it, and he drove a hard bargain. Apparently, the price of his allegiance was worth a shipment of the explosive for each of his troops. Doddyle was the Empire’s most expansive military stronghold. The idea of that much Wildfire in the hands of a sadist the likes of Azazel made Magnus loath himself, and loath Asmodeus for suggesting the bargain in the first place. He had tried his best to lower the price, but the king wouldn’t budge. In fact, he’d even tried blackmailing him, demanding a first shipment as proof of good faith and to keep him from mentioning the encounter to the Emperor, as Magnus thought on his offer.

He felt trapped in a corner, a feeling he was accustomed to in his life, but one he hated nonetheless. He needed time to think this through, and time was the one thing he didn’t have plenty of right then. He left Azazel’s doorway and went outside to get some air. He just wanted to inhale for a minute and not feel like he owed his exhale to anyone. The Palace grounds spread around him, surrounding him in beautiful greenery and roses that pulsed with life and color. The cobblestone pathways seemed to crisscross all over, taking residents wherever they needed to go. Magnus didn’t have another meeting until the afternoon, and a walk to clear his mind was exactly what he needed, so he followed a random path, exploring this place that had him in knots.

As he walked, he noticed a pattern in the roses that adorned the sides of the path. They started in the most vivid dark violet, then gradually moved to a dewy blood red, then delicate pastel pink, and finally a sad white. It was as if life was leaching out of the roses the further along he walked. As if the roses had shed their wild colors in a fit of grief. The white roses went on for a while, till the pathway abruptly ended, and Magnus found himself looking at a yard that was surrounded by more white roses, so dense and beautiful, shimmering in the sunlight, giving the square this feel of ethereal beauty and holiness. The yard itself was filled with little white stones, small pebbles and round flat stones, and in the center of the vast space, stood a lone statue made of black marble, with a black iron bench set in front of it.

Magnus instinctively knew he had encroached on a very sacred space. It looked like a mausoleum, and despite his faults, he felt it disrespectful to snoop further. He’d only meant to stretch his legs for a while. He was about to walk back, when the sunlight hit the statue fully, and he could decipher the figure carved out of marble. It was a small child. The sculpting was done so well, that Magnus felt like he could almost feel the presence of a child there. His curiosity got the best of him, and he cursed himself even as he approached the figure.

It was a little boy with big eyes, and a huge smile on his face. Dimples were carved out of his cheekbones, and he had a hand outstretched above his head, as if reaching for something. It was a beautiful rendition, for what he assumed was a beautiful child. Was it Alexander? The figure had some of his likeness, but despite the smile etched on his chubby face, it also emanated an immense sadness, and Magnus hated to think of the strong capable man he’d met to harbor such a feeling. And then, he looked down at the bottom of the statue, and felt his heart drop to his feet.

“ _In remembrance of our dearest Maxwell, brother and son. For the immense joy you were in life, and the little rascal you probably still are in Heaven. We will never forget the love you brought into our lives, and the haste with which you were taken from us. Hail and Farewell_ ”

Magnus faintly remembered hearing about the death of the Emperor’s youngest off-spring. He’d been three, if Magnus recalled correctly, and his death had rocked the Empire. It had proved the rebels had been willing to do anything to harm the Lightwoods, even kill an innocent three-year-old child.

In all honesty, Magnus didn’t know how the mercenaries had even begun as an Edomai practice. All he knew was that they were rogue groups that had defected from Edom when it had forcibly joined the Empire, dissatisfied with the king’s decision to yield to Idris. They didn’t care that more war would have only meant more innocent Edomai deaths, and that Idris had the military advantage. They’d been savage, according to all the tales he’d read, and from little Max’s memory, still were. Idris hadn’t held the Edom crown responsible for the attack, but it hadn’t helped matters any. There was no love lost between the nations, and his job in Alicante was proof enough.

The reminder of his intentions soured his stomach all over again. With him standing there, in this sacred tragic square, looking at the eternal memory of a life cut too soon, the full implications of what he was doing hit him like a brick wall. _What was he doing?_ Why was he detaching himself from the problem? As if he wouldn’t have to witness the destruction his actions created? As if more war wouldn’t just mean more Maxwells of the world meeting an untimely fate? Was his debt worth all this?

He felt the cold sweat rolling down his back at the thought of his debt. His father had saved him from a life of misery and heartache. He’d believed that warranted enough gratitude to carry this out. There had to be another way, though. There had to be another way to fix this centuries-old mess their forefathers had made and keep war from breaking between their countries. No more Maxwells had to die, and he’d make sure of it. His father… Well, he’d figure how to deal with his father in his own time.

Magnus knew he hadn’t seen much of the world, perhaps didn’t even begin to understand it, but he was no stranger to pain. Being the crown prince of a dying country, one that was stuck in an endless desert had taught him that pride and arrogance didn’t feed people, nor water their crops. It didn’t keep plagues from ravaging their weak, and malnourishment from weakening their young. His family had sat on a throne of their people’s agony for generations, letting that malcontent fuel their every decision, making them more bitter and jaded and unable to reach a hand out for help. His father’s foray into rebellion was his way of trying to change the status quo, but it wouldn’t help. Now, watching this statue, he knew it wouldn’t help. People died in wars, and nobody won, no matter the outcome. Edom needed help, needed to prosper and grow stronger, not to be soaked in its own people’s blood. His father wanted to start a revolution, to give the kingdoms of the Empire a fighting chance against Idris, but at what cost? If fighting solved anything, wouldn’t this poor child’s senseless death have changed something? Instead, it had only generated more hate and rage and discord. Imagining what adding Wildfire into the fray would do to the Empire brought a chill down his spine.

He’d been idle for too long, stuck in a whirlwind of sadness and numbness, thinking that putting himself in a bubble would spare him from the hurt of the world. If he went on like this, wouldn’t it mean that Camille had succeeded? That she’d broken him beyond repair? He was _Magnus Bane_ , he was the Crown Prince of Edom, and if he didn’t care, then who would? Who’d fight for the weak and the destitute? Who’d bother to save their souls from the perils of life? He was a prince, and it was time to start acting like it. No more letting life happen to him, and no more sitting by and hoping for the best.

He looked back at the small child, and lay his hand on the top of his head and said “Thank you, Max. I’m sorry I will never get to meet you, but thank you for waking me up”.

“He tends to do that, my Maxwell”. Magnus was startled by the voice emanating from the right entrance to the square. A tall beautiful dark-haired woman stood there, dressed in a wool gown that looked entirely too hot for the summer weather. “Help people, I mean”, she prompted, probably taking Magnus’ silence as confusion. The stranger held a bouquet of white roses in her hands, and Magnus understood that she was there to pay a visit to the little boy’s statue. He bowed his head and replied “Yes, he does”. Not wanting to intrude on a stranger’s time, he made as if to leave, but her desperately uttered words stopped him “Can I ask you what it was he helped with?”

He hesitated, and she must’ve read that on his face because she gave a sad smile and said, apologetically “I’m sorry. That was very unseemly of me. I just haven’t had a conversation beyond the usual bows and curtsies in a while. I may have gotten overexcited”

In the bleak setting of the white rose square, next to the white stones and the black marble, she looked like an eerie figment of his imagination. With delicate features and a vulnerable expression on her face, Magnus would feel like an absolute heel denying her simple request, so he slowly approached the bench, sat down and patted the seat next to him, attempting to give her an encouraging smile.

It seemed to work, because the woman smiled shyly back, and sat on the other side of the bench, angling herself to look at him. He supposed she was waiting for him to answer her question “I’ve been in a sort of trance for the longest time, and seeing Max’s memory etched in stone here kind of reminded me that life is too short to go through it numb”

A lot had passed right by him in the past three years. The reminder was jarring and enlightening all at once. His words seemed to make the stranger very sad. Tears gathered in her lashes and she bowed her head, as if to hide them from him. Had he misspoken somehow?

“I’m sorry if my words distressed you. I meant no offense, ma’am”

She smiled through eyes lined with tears, even as she wiped them away with the palm of her hand “Oh, none at all. It’s just that it’s a lovely lesson to learn from Maxwell’s death. I wish all people had your forethought. You can spend so long being numb, that by the time you finally wake up, you’re no good to anyone around you. I’m glad you don’t have to go through that”

Magnus felt like he was missing some crucial part of detail about this surreal encounter, like he knew this woman somehow, but nothing seemed to jump at him. Perhaps she had one of those familiar faces you saw sometimes and could swear you’d met before. “Thank you. Hurt and pain will do that to you. I let the actions of one person dictate my own for a long time, but today, I think I’m finally ready to take back my own fate”

“Ah! Pain! I know that feeling a bit too well. You see, I discovered that numbness is our meager way of fending off the pain. When every breath you take seems to hurt, you convince yourself you don’t need air, that you’d be fine without breathing. It’s the same with emotions. When every feeling hurts, you convince yourself that shutting off is the answer. Except, people who deal with the pain learn to live through it, but if you ever attempt to break the seal you put on your feelings, they inundate you and you’re as helpless as you were at first. And the longest you live in a complete bubble, the harder it is to recuperate. Nobody deserves that”.

The wistful tone, the hitch in her voice made it quite obvious she was speaking from personal experience. “I don’t think you do either”, he hesitantly said.

She seemed to understand his meaning and her face took on a faraway expression that harbored the same sadness he felt watching Max’s figure.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Child. I hurt a great many people with my reaction to pain, people who needed me, people who relied on me. I decided my pain was more important than theirs, and I fear that no feelings will ever make up for that. The worst way you can offend someone is by making their feelings seem insignificant, and I did that.”.

She seemed to snap out of her trance, and looked back at him, put a hand on top of his own and said "You're still young, and have time to set yourself straight. Take it from an old woman who has way too many regrets. Closing yourself to pain means closing yourself to every emotion out there, and as much as it might hurt sometimes, our lives are colored with too many beautiful feelings to shut everything out. Sometimes, all pain does is heighten how incredible love and happiness can be. Do not begrudge yourself the pleasure of tasting life and enjoying it"

Magnus felt this stranger's words reverberate through his bones. The regret and sadness that coated her words made his heart ache for her misery, and made him more astute as to his own. He didn't want to wake up one day to find out he'd let life slip him by. If he did that, then she wins. She gets to win every single day he wallows in the dark abyss. He smiled at the woman who'd been gracious enough to help him sort through the mess in his head "I will. Thank you, ma'am"

She smiled back, patted his hand one last time then stood up. He took that as his cue and did as well. She seemed to look towards the statue and that same sadness came over her eyes. Magnus felt like he'd intruded on her private time long enough and bid her a quick goodbye, then retreated down the same path he'd taken to get to the yard. He kept thinking of the stranger with the white roses in her hand and the deep sadness in her gaze all the way back to his rooms, and it was only then that he remembered the first thing she'd said to him "My Maxwell". It hit him then, the familiar feeling her features triggered. She had her daughter's black mane and her son's golden eyes. He'd just met the Empress of Idris.

 

After an indulgent meal he'd only barely tasted thanks to his upset stomach, Magnus headed towards the Fairie Prince's rooms for the meeting his valet had arranged. He was loath to partake in another one of these odious encounters where he had to do his father's bidding, but the meeting had been set, and cancelling would show extreme lack of tact on his part. He had decided to merely discuss the upcoming coronation with the man, get a sense of where his loyalty lay, and hold off on anything more until he figured out a proper way to diffuse what his father had set in motion. He shouldn't have gone to Azazel this morning. Now he had more damage control to consider. But all in good time, because a little detour was first required.

He knocked on the door and waited for it to open. A jubilant man unlocked it. After he said his name, the man was ushering him into the sitting area all the while chattering at him about how the Commander was going to be with him shortly, and how he'd never been to Edom but would love to visit someday. He flitted about, fixing up pillows that looked fine to Magnus and offering him refreshments.

Magnus couldn't help but smile. He remembered Alexander's description from this morning. This must be Simon. He really was a chatterbox, but in an adorable, innocent way. It felt too mean even to consider annoying. Magnus was really curious to see if Alexander's plan had worked and Simon had already told Raphael about the "assassination".

His friend's storming entrance into the room said enough. He looked positively thunderous, and if Magnus didn't value his new-found zeal for life, he'd laugh out loud just to rile him up more.

"So nice of you to come, Magnus. Did you have fun tattling to our precious Emperor last night? I suspect your conversation went marvelously since I now have him breathing down my neck!"

Magnus really did burst out laughing then. It seemed Alexander's tactic had worked well. Raphael was vibrating with panic. Magnus tried to speak up and correct his friend, but he was on a roll "He's looking for an assassin. God, I hate her. I wouldn't have been in this mess if it weren't for Camille's genius idea. Remind me again why I follow her orders. Oh, right, because she's my Queen and can have me executed if I don't. So, I'm dying for treason either way. Perfect!"

Despite Magnus calling his name to get his attention, Raph continued pacing around the settee, mumbling to himself. Magnus had to eventually yell his name to get him to look up "How about you stop wearing a hole through the rug for a minute, and let me tell you what really happened"

Magnus then relayed the story he'd overheard this morning to his friend, watching the myriad of emotions flickering through him as the botched-up assassination story unraveled. He cursed under his breath, and by the time Magnus finished his story with the tactic of using Simon to feel Raphael out, the man had a stupefied expression on his face.

"You mean to tell me, that Pretty boy Lightwood figured all that out on his own, then played me and my chatty valet for fools?!"

"I'm as surprised and impressed as you are!"

"I'm pretty sure you were impressed before the man even opened his mouth, Magnus. If the universe made a man to tempt you, it would be the Emperor"

Magnus took offense to the shallow description of his opinion, but refrained from telling Raphael he'd actually heard angels singing when he'd seen Alexander. It would just make him smug.

"Anyways", Raphael continued, "This mess is beyond my duties as Commander. I'm sending an urgent message to my volatile queen and letting her solve this one on her own"

"And in the meantime?"

"I'll call off Clary, and act as if I don't know a thing about her agenda or his. Then, I'm going to have a long chat with my valet about his slippery tongue"

"Oh, a bit risqué, Raphael. Don’t you think?" Magnus couldn't help but tease.

"Shut up, Magnus”, Raph grumbled back. "What about your plans? I hope you're being careful with whom you share your agendas with"

Magnus knew he'd made the right choice holding back from following his father's plans. He explained his epiphany to his friend, keeping the surreal conversation with Empress Maryse to himself; For some reason, he felt protective of that whole encounter. Raphael seemed to deflate in relief at his words.

"That's great news, Magnus. I've been telling you for ages that you have nothing to atone for. I won't be insulted that a walk through the gardens made you realize that, instead, but I'm glad it finally sunk in somehow"

"Well, I didn't say I had nothing to pay back, I just said supplying greedy royals with Wildfire wasn’t how I was willing to do it", he raised his hand to stop his friend from objecting further, rising from his seat as he did, "I know your opinion on the subject. Unfortunately, I have an appointment with Prince Meliorn, and I have yet to figure out what I’m telling him to prevent more damage. I'll take my leave"

Raphael gave him the stink eye, but luckily let him go without a hassle. He could already hear him yell Simon's name as he shut the door on his way out.

* * *

 

Isabelle had held her tongue during her meeting with Clarissa, but sure hadn’t when it came to their brother. It had taken Alec two hours to calm Jace down and convince him not to rush into Clarissa’s room and demand she let him study her enough to figure out what name she was to him. He understood his brother’s trepidation, he really did. It was not easy knowing someone that important was mere doors away and not doing anything about it, but he actually liked Clarissa, and if his hunch was right, she was meant to be in Jace’s life for a very long time, so he needed his hot-headed brother to keep his cool, lest he ruin a good thing before it could even begin.

The unexpected therapy session took away precious time out of his packed schedule, and Alec found himself rushing into cabinet meetings and final preparation briefings about the world’s most pointless festivities. While Steven went to fetch him some tonic for his pounding head, he lay his head back in his chair and tried to even his breathing. He wondered what Prince Magnus would be doing right then? He hadn’t tried to talk to him again after the blunt encounter they had last night, and why would he? Alec had been harsh and blunt for a reason. Now, if his brain got that memo and stopped thinking about the man for more than two minutes at a time, that would be great. The incessant thoughts were further worsened by the slight buzzing he could feel in his wrist. It made him antsy and wary. It wasn’t like he was still going to meet some name written in invisible ink. He already knew all he needed to know about his precarious situation, so the small itch was just playing his nerves like a fiddle, further compounding his headache.

Just as he was about to try and scratch it, the door to his office opened and in strolled Clarissa, looking giddy and relaxed. “Oh, come right in. It’s not like it’s the private office of the Emperor or anything”, he teased on a chuckle.

Clarissa blushed and said, sheepishly “Sorry, but you’re the only person who knows exactly who I am, and doesn’t seem to hate me for it, so you’re kind of stuck with me”

“You know, for an attendant, you don’t seem to attend to Commander Raphael. Are you sure your cover is safe?”

“Apparently, there is no need for a cover any longer, as I am officially suspended from my Emperor killer duties!”

So, Simon did tattle, just as he’d predicted. Alec leaned further in his chair, put his legs on the desk and clasped his hands behind his neck “Ah, I’m guessing the valet did his job a little too well. It’s not even sundown”

Clarissa smiled “I found Commander Raphael sitting stoically in his sitting room. He just looked at me with his permanent scowl and told me to stop everything, that things had gotten a bit heated and that the operation was compromised”.

And he just expected her to accept his decree. His skepticism must’ve shown on his face because she laughed and said “He said that the operation was on hold until he heard back from Camille. Apparently, he sent her a missive telling her what happened and letting her deal with the outcome herself. I told you he wanted nothing to do with this”

In Alec’s opinion, this didn’t necessarily erase his culpability. After all, turning a blind eye to an assassination was still as enabling as if he were holding the murder weapon himself, but then again, he’d wanted to change many things about his father’s orders but never felt like it was his place. So, be it loyalty or an unflappable sense of duty, his issue really wasn’t with Commander Raphael. It was with the wicked witch that was the Queen of DuMort. Now, the ball was in her court and she had lost the element of surprise that had been her only advantage. It was like playing chess and the trick was that for once, the king was the strongest piece.

He didn’t realize he’d started scratching his wrist until Clarissa hesitantly asked “Why do you all wear leather bands? Is it an Idrisian custom?”

He thought of his brother’s erratic behavior from this morning, and had to actually consider that despite his best intentions, Jace wouldn’t be able to hold himself back from reaching out to her for long, so Alec thought he’d test her reception to the idea first. He didn’t want his brother’s heart crushed by an insensitive reply. He gestured towards the chair across from him as Clarissa was still fidgeting by his desk “Sit down, Clarissa, and I’ll tell you a story”

“Okay, that sounds ominous. But first, since we seem to be chummy and all”, she laughed at the withering glance he gave her, “Call me Clary. I really chose it because I prefer it to my birth name. Only my father calls me that”. The disgust on her features dissuaded Alec from teasing her about it. He acknowledged her request and made his own “Only if you call me Alec. Our business is too personal to stand on formalities”.

She gratefully took a seat and grinned up at him joyfully “Duly noted. Now, Alec, tell me a story”

Shaking his head at her slyness, Alec told Clary about the story of the names, this magical mystical occurrence that happened in their lives, making sure to keep stock of her reactions. She naturally peppered him with questions and inquiries, but seemed to take the concept in stride. When he finished, she sat back in her chair and let out a breath, eyes round and curious, but not wary or suspicious, he noticed. “So, you just go through life seeking these random names that were assigned to you by fate? How does that work?”

“Some don’t. Some disregard them completely and go about their lives as if they never were. Besides a small itch when you meet your names, you don’t feel any physical pain. There isn’t a bond between you or anything that drastic. They’re just a message from fate telling you that these people’s threads might lead them to be your friends, enemies or lovers”

“So, you mean to say that they’re just possibilities, and not foregone conclusions”

Alec had never thought of it that way. He’d known his whole life that some people chose to ignore the fate’s scripture. He even knew that the names weren’t proof that these people were meant to be the ultimate ally or foe or loved one. His parents had made each other too miserable for him to maintain that illusion, but he’d never really considered it as a choice to be made. He’d never thought that these names presented possibilities and not realities. Could it be that simple? To just ignore the existence of these people you’ve had slithering under your skin for years? How? How could _he_ hear the name Magnus Bane and just go about his day, uninterrupted, undeterred, as if the mere whisper of it didn’t send chills skittering down his bones? The idea seemed ludicrous, but he supposed Clary didn’t understand how attached you became to a name you saw on your wrist every day. “If you can ignore the knowledge, then sure, they _are_ just possibilities”

She seemed to take that in for a moment, then levelled him with a curious brow “So, you were rubbing at your wrist because you’re meeting one of your names?”

In a blatant attempt to persuade her from that line of questioning, Alec exclaimed “You seem to be taking all of this in stride. Aren’t you the least bit wary of our magical and spiritual ideals? As an assassin, I would assume you’d be quite pragmatic”

She merely smiled “I actually enjoy the idea of there being a pre-destined order to things. It provides a certain safety in knowing your place is pre-ordained in the world. You merely have to find it. Knowing who you can rely on and who you should be wary of, even if it is just one of the possibilities. I actually envy you that!”

Alec let out a disbelieving laugh before he could contain it. He was pretty sure Clary wouldn’t envy anything about his predicament, but he wasn’t going to share any more than he already had, so he let her have her fanciful romantic notions. At least now, he knew she’d be amenable to hear Jace out if, or rather, when he told her about the _possibility_ of them.

He kept thinking of her words long after she left his office, and despite the tonic that Steven brought back for him, thinking of the different perspectives caused his headache to worsen. The itch didn’t help matters any, only made him sweat profusely under his jacket, considering and disregarding a thousand scenarios as to why it was acting up again. He’d met Magnus already. That should’ve been it. In his panicky state, Alec only half-listened as Steven regaled him with court gossip that involved some nobleman who had tried to grope Lydia Branwell, and who’d been promptly dissuaded from ever repeating the maneuver when she’d broken his nose. He should’ve known better, Alec thought. Lydia was one of the fiercest commanders of the Idrisian army. As Jace’s right hand and second in command, she had to be, and Alec had always admired how she went through life with a sense of purpose he’d never managed to find. Purpose, he decided, was a value acquired through exploring life, and for all the perks his position allowed, exploring life was never a feasible option.

Steven often like to tease him with the old saying “Heavy is the head that wears the crown”. Alec was so accustomed to the burden of it, he sometimes feared taking it away would cause him to drift away into nothingness, too light to be grounded by anything but his cursed duty.

* * *

 

As Magnus gazed upon the ethereal form of his companion, he couldn’t help but feel a slight touch of envy, at the ease that Meliorn seemed to have in his own skin. The man was sinful, in an open shirt, leather trousers and countless jewelry adorning his neck and fingers, he seemed more fit for a candle lit soirée than a diplomatic encounter. Except, the self-awareness with which he carried himself made his attire look perfectly appropriate for the occasion. Magnus was saddened to realize he hadn’t felt that comfortable in his own skin in years, and the realization chafed. Today was adding more and more mental blows to his soul and he feared that any more epiphanies were going to be more than he could handle.

As he sipped the chamomile tea the pixie like attendant had poured for him, he and Meliorn exchanged the usual small talk where they pretended to like each other’s parents and ask about their health, then Meliorn put down his cup and adorned a serious expression that seemed out of place on his ever-smiling face “So, Magnus, to what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting? I admit I was very intrigued when my assistant told me you wished to see me!”

This was the tricky part. For the hundredth time since this morning, Magnus cursed his ever-efficient self for scheduling these meetings before he settled in Alicante. He could’ve avoided this entire charade had he just taken some time to himself beforehand. As it was too late, he stalled a bit “I can’t just show up for a social visit? I thought you like me, Meliorn”, he teased.

“Come on now, Magnus. You and I both know your family, hell, your country has no affinity for social niceties, so why don’t we just get to the chase?”

Magnus could do without the blunt assessment, but he could also respect the honesty, so he simply asked “How do you feel about our young new Emperor, Meliorn?”

The question seemed to surprise Meliorn “I think he’ll do wonderfully to lead our Empire. He’s everything a leader ought to be”

“And this assessment has nothing to do with you being attracted to him?”

Meliorn’s head tilted, as if confused by the correlation “Have you seen that man? Of course, I’m attracted to him. What red blooded man wouldn’t be? Have you seen him in blue? Simply incinerating”, Meliorn fanned himself with a smirk on his face. His serious demeanor returned a moment later, though, causing Magnus to feel off balance about this whole discussion “That doesn’t mean he’s not fit to rule. I know you don’t really think much of us in the North”, he raised his hand to stop the objection about to rise on Magnus’ lips, and continued “But let me tell you something, Magnus. You stay in your little countries in the South, spitting fire about the crown and shouting its incompetence to anyone who’d listen, but how have you tried to change the status quo? Have you ever tried learning about the family that leads us or have you been too busy hating them to have a clear idea?”

Magnus understood where this conversation was going, and despite the guilt and shame he felt knowing what his initial objective in this meeting had been, he felt the need to defend himself “I am not my father, Meliorn”

“And he is not _his_!”. Meliorn seemed to deflate after uttering those words with such finality, losing all defiance. In a softer tone, he reiterated “I’m sorry if my words seem harsh, Magnus. I just feel defensive of the Lightwoods. You come to court every blue moon.  I am here often. I practically grew up running down these halls, and I remember when sadness cloaked this place, and how it never left. I remember how Alec’s smile looked and how Isabelle’s laugh used to tinkle like windchimes and Jace’s entire demeanor was more playful than mean, and I see them now, more somber and serious, but always resolute to put this Empire first. They bend but never break, and if you think you or anyone can do a better job at taking over their positions, I urge you to do more than judge them for making the best out of an impossible situation”.

Meliorn’s eyes were lined with silver, and Magnus felt the twisting in his stomach, recognized it for what it was: Guilt. Horrible terrible guilt, because he knew the source of that grief, had witnessed the devastation of it this morning, and he wasn’t too proud to admit he’d always believed the Lightwoods to be arrogant snobbish rulers that played by their own rules, when they were ruled by the same emotions as all of them. He still had one thing nagging at him though. Why did they need to be ruled in the first place? Why did some ancient men’s battles and conquests need to dictate how they lived their lives? Instead of an arrangement that took and took from the weak destitute countries and never gave them, why couldn’t they just help each other out without an overseer whose decrees they had to fear? He voiced these thoughts to Meliorn, and instead of censorship and another lecture, the prince merely gave a knowing smile and uttered with confidence and a pride that only came from talking about someone dear “Then I suggest you keep a close eye on our _young new Emperor_ , Magnus. He just might surprise you!”

The words sent Magnus into an internal reflection that required some time alone. He excused himself soon after, and disappeared into his assigned room where his valet had finally retrieved the rest of the baggage they’d left behind the night before, granting him access to better outfits than he’d hastily packed on his trip with Lucian. He adorned a navy-blue shirt with a silver embroidery that he adored and paired it with some dark trousers. After his valet fussed over him for a few minutes, he felt more at ease then he had since setting foot in Alicante.

He took a seat by the window, looking over a majestic view of the gardens, and took stock of all the information he’d gathered today. The workings of a plan were forming in his mind, and despite how much grief it would cause his relationship with his father, he felt it was his long-neglected duty as a prince to actually do something about the current state of Edom. If Meliorn was correct in his assessment of Alexander, then he owed it to his people to give it a shot, and not by supplying the Empire with Wildfire, at least not as a prize to destabilize the throne. His country needed help, and he would make a deal with the Angel himself to get it. He’d have to settle for Alexander Lightwood.

* * *

 

Alec's irritated state had only gotten worse throughout the day. He was snapping at everyone around him and couldn't find the heart to feel guilty about it. His wrist was now a perpetual bruise from how hard he'd chafed it, and his nerves were frayed. Moreover, he still had to finish reading three more contracts before he had to attend a dinner banquet that was going to be filled to the gills with simpering noblemen hoping to win his favor. Therefore, any hope of his mood improving had been dashed hours ago.

Steven had abandoned him to "be a miserable shrew", as he so aptly called it nearly an hour ago, so when a knock sounded at his door, he just snapped " what!?" without even lifting his head.

"Um, is this a bad time?". The melodic voice startled him into looking up, only to find a vision in front of him.

On a conscious level, Alec had been aware of the appeal of one Magnus Bane since he lay eyes on him, but in that moment, he felt the stab of attraction deep in his gut. His muscles tensed and his breathing picked up, and it was only the pressure of his wrist that kept him from doing something deranged like testing to see if those lips felt as soft as they looked. That's it! He'd finally gone mental. Every interaction with this man had left him reeling and experiencing the mood swings of a hormonal teenager, so he needed him to leave rather quickly "As a matter of fact, it is, your Highness. I have a dinner banquet I need to get to. Perhaps we can discuss whatever it is you wish to talk about then?"

To his dismay, Magnus didn't say anything in return. He just squinted at Alec, studying him thoroughly, then abruptly said, in an even tone "Why don't you like me?"

"I assure you, your Highness, I like you just fine. Now, if you'll excuse me-"

"I know about the assassination". Alec froze in place, and Magnus hurriedly explained as if seizing the unexpected moment of shock "That's what I was there to talk to you about last night. Not the stupid snake. I was there to tell you about the murder attempt. I'm not your enemy, Alexander".

The insolence at using his given name shouldn't have been that alluring nor that arousing, and if the full name uttered in that melodic voice hadn't distracted him, Alec would probably have laughed at the affirmation his soul knew to be false. As it was, he needed to concentrate on one thing "How do you know I know?"

Magnus smirked, and by the Angel, Alec really needed to control his libido because that slight tilt of his mouth was absolutely lethal.

"I might have stumbled upon a conversation you were having with your sister. Mouth of a Forsaken, that one!", he said delightedly.

The Forsaken were pirates that roamed the seas on the northern borders of Idris. They were foul mouthed drunkards that traded in anything under the sun. Generations of Lightwoods hadn't managed to rid the seas of them, to the point the damned waterways were now named after them. Alec had to admit that Isabelle's manners this morning had been quite similar to those barbaric savages. Nevertheless, he wasn't going to let his enemy disparage his sister "That's your princess you're talking about, so I would watch my tongue, if I were you"

"You seem to be watching it enough for the both of us". Alec felt the blush rising on his neck, and hoped the fading rays of sunlight would be dim enough to spare him from embarrassment.

Magnus laughed, "I'm just teasing. I shouldn't. You're just really easy to rattle"

"Most people who know me wouldn't make such an assessment"

The fiend tilted his head and said, rather philosophically "Maybe most people don't elicit such a reaction".

At those cryptic words that Alec wasn’t going to try to decipher, Magnus sobered up and took a seat, uninvited, across from him and said "Look, for some reason, you don't like me. Fine. I'll live! But I need to you to look over your distaste for my very existence long enough for me to actually say what I came here to say"

Distaste for his existence? Oh boy, if only he knew. Alec wisely kept his mouth shut and simply nodded at him to get on with it. The sooner he got this conversation over with, the better.

Magnus seemed to be bracing himself, then started "You're a new ascending Emperor. You must be aware of the tension that has always existed between the seat of Power, and the southern countries. Camille sending a paid hitman after you is proof enough, so as a prince of Edom, I want to offer you a deal"

He waited to let that sink in, looking up at Alec as if gauging his reaction. Alec couldn't help but be intrigued, despite knowing in his heart there had to be a catch. After all, Magnus was his enemy, and any deal he would propose would come back to haunt him.

"I know my father very well. At heart, he is a businessman, and to him, Edom is simply a venture he's invested in, and in which he sees no revenue. That is why he rebels and defies the crown. I can help you appease my father, enough that you'll never have to contend with Edomai messes...At least, the ones caused by the Banes", he finished, ridding himself of any culpability when it came to the Mercenary groups. Smart, Alec thought, not to bite off more than one could chew, because there was no way the Mercs would yield to the Empire.

"And DuMort?", he asked, given that Magnus had mentioned the southern countries in general.

Magnus seemed to go a bit pale, but lifted his chin and said, resolutely "Camille already made her bed. She sent an assassin after you. I can help you bring her down. Her first Commander is one of my oldest friends, and Camille doesn't have any heirs. I'm sure if you make him an offer of, say, taking over when you bring her down, he'd be more than willing to assist in your crusade. You know, instead of you using him as one of your pawns". Well, hadn't he heard plenty this morning? Alec wanted to wipe that smirk off of his face in a hundred depraved ways, but he contented himself with asking the one niggling question about this entire deal "And what's in it for you? Why would you help a complete stranger whose family has basically thwarted the power of yours?"

"Because my country is dying, Alexander".

The blunt matter-of-fact delivery echoed a pang in Alec's chest. He knew how bad things had gotten in Edom. Of course, he did. It was his family's life long practice to withdraw assistance to get what they wanted, and the Banes were a stubborn proud bunch who never yielded to the decrees of the throne, so it was only natural that the country would be in ruins. Desert and scorching sun didn't make for a prospering land.

"Ego at the expense of the people is nothing but cowardice and idiocy coated in a veneer of pride. And I am not an idiot, Alexander. My country needs help, and I will help you against all odds if it means I can provide it."

Despite his reluctance to believe anything when it came to Magnus Bane, the honesty ringing in his voice made Alec respect this man sitting across from him. If there was one thing he could understand, it was duty, and putting your country first. Being the heir to a throne was a tricky position, and Alec admired him for using his power to right the wrongs of his predecessors. "And what would your father think of your new-found alliance with Idris?"

Magnus smiled, and Alec cursed inwardly. He'd just given up his trump card "Let me worry about my father. Am I to assume we're about to be partners in crime?".

He looked positively giddy, and Alec's head doubled its pounding, and his cursed wrist was still killing him. He was about to make himself vulnerable to all kinds of trouble, he just knew, but despite his wariness, he couldn't deny that his first official act as Emperor was going to try and fix the rift between the South and the North. He couldn't pass up this chance at inside intelligence when it had literally come knocking at his door. So, he heaved a most disgruntled sigh and sullenly said "I suppose we are".

Magnus frowned at his less than enthusiastic words and started shaking his head “No, no, no. This will not work if you act like I'm your enemy, and I act like you're a snobbish Lightwood with a golden pedigree. If we're to do this, we're starting on a clean slate."

"I really don't like how you're just giving orders and expecting me to follow them"

"You’d like someone else being in charge. You look so wound up you'd love it if someone just gave you directions and made you follow, every once in a while"

The imagery! By the Angel, the imagery. When did his clothes start chafing against his skin, and could he crack a window open without this utter flirt figuring out why he was so distressed? He probably shouldn't. So, he just looked at Magnus straight on and said "Fine. Clean slate. Whatever. We'll try to be friendly"

Magnus' smile was bright and beautiful "I'll wager we'll even be friends". He extended his hand across the desk, waiting for Alec to shake it.

Alec put his hand in his, and a violent shiver shook his body. At once, his wrist stopped itching and his whole being was suffused with a warmth that felt divine. The world realigned itself once again and surely, it couldn't be! Surely, he couldn't feel it twice in the span of a day, but the signs were there and the truth was thrumming through him as if delivered on a phantom wind. He could swear the words were heard somewhere by the softest most angelic voice. _Ally!_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. The Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey there beautiful people <3  
> Long time, no see! I know, I know, I'm a horrible person for leaving you hanging but in reward, you get to know Magnus' story this time. It's a hard journey, but it needed to be told.  
> Hope you enjoy <3

Head tilted toward the ceiling, Alec followed the motion of the little ball of yarn, as it went up and down, and up and down, and marveled at how Magnus still had enough energy in his body to throw it and catch it repeatedly. He felt like he'd run a marathon. His body ached, his muscles were sore, and he just wanted to slip into oblivion and sleep for days. Of course, that's what they got for going at it for the whole day, without breaking for food or rest.

When Magnus had told him he'd help him resolve the rift between the kingdoms, Alec had thought it was going to be a project that took months to start, then some intricate planning, but apparently, Magnus Bane was not the patient sort, because he'd wanted to start working right then. It had taken all of Alec's remaining will to convince him that they should take the rest of the night off to recharge, then reconvene in the morning, and even then, Magnus had shown up in his office before the sun had fully risen, basically vibrating with energy.

Alec would be lying if he said that the enthusiasm wasn't charming. In fact, it had taken a ridiculous amount of restrain to stop himself from expressing just how charming he found Magnus, in vivid detail.

Having to reorganize his entire schedule had been a feat, and he was sure the raised eyebrow he'd gotten from Steven was partly due to his sudden change of plans, and mainly to inquire about his newest friend. He was glad his best friend hadn't been able to corner him and ask him about it outright, because in all honesty, Alec had no idea what to say.

After last night's revelation, his mind had kept spinning, building and dashing hopes and dreams, trying to make sense of what it meant that Magnus was both his greatest ally and his biggest enemy, all the while trying to keep himself from daring to hope for too much. Despite that, as he lay in bed in the wee hours of the night, his poor overwrought brain had finally given the reins to his wildly beating heart, and he envisioned what might be. The idea invaded his soul and held on tight. Magnus Bane as his lover, as his one true love. The thought made his breath hitch and his heart pound like a wild stallion, a feeling of excitement and hope rising through him, and yet. _And yet_ , nothing else had happened. No voice in his head declared it to be true, no wind swept over the room, no otherworldly emotion came over him, no itch had taken over his wrist. The silence had been loud and clear. It was not meant to be! So instead of focusing on the unfairness of it all, he'd decided to sort out what he did know to be true. An ally and an enemy. How was that even possible? He'd known his case to be less than usual, but the logic just didn't add up. So naturally, he'd spent the night running around in circles, making and discarding a thousand theories, and he was no closer to getting an answer than they were to getting anywhere with their mission.

A sigh from the man on his left broke him of his dire thoughts, and he turned his head from where it rested on the back of the couch to look at Magnus, who was still playing with the ball of yarn like an ornery cat. His beautiful face was shaded by the light coming from the fireplace, and despite his disheveled state, he still took Alec's breath away. They'd missed another dinner banquet tonight, and despite the fact that they were no closer to getting any charge to stick to Camille, Alec was grateful for the day they'd spent.

He'd discovered a lot about Magnus today. Like how he gestured with his hands to get any point across, how his eyes lit up when he got excited about something, how he carried this sense of wonder about the world that Alec had had purged out of him at a very young age. Alec was drawn to that wonder like a moth to a flame. He wanted to bask in it for days, and better yet, wanted to be the person to make Magnus feel awe more than he wanted anything, wanted to do something worthy of the gleam in his eyes. A dangerous line of thought, he knew, but he was too tired for inner struggles right then.

He was not so naïve as to think Magnus wasn't a bit jaded by life. In fact, he was certain that there was bad blood between him and Camille that went beyond her being a horrible human being, although he hadn't asked. He was too conscious of the importance of privacy to disregard it in pursuit of sating his own curiosity.

"Do you think this will work? That we'll find something?"

Magnus caught the ball and turned his head to look at him. The gesture brought their faces so close that Alec could feel Magnus' breath warming his face. It was a struggle not to flick his gaze to those lips. Said lips quirked up as if Magnus knew where his thoughts had taken him "Already losing hope, Alexander? I didn't take you for a quitter"

Alec rolled his eyes. Who knew the prince of Edom was such a daredevil? "I'm not quitting. I'm just trying to set some realistic expectations. You said yourself that Camille was wily and cunning. Would she leave any traces of her messes behind?"

"You're right. Camille _is_ cunning, but her downfall is that she knows it a little too well. She fancies herself invincible, and that makes her reckless. She's so sure of her own superiority that she's bound to slip, and I'm sure there's evidence that she already has. We just need to find it"

Alec knew the assessment came from personal experience and as curious as he was to know their connection, he felt it more important to ask "And just how do you know such evidence exists?"

Magnus seemed to hesitate, and for some stupid unfathomable reason, seeing the doubt on his face caused a shard of hurt to lodge in Alec’s chest. It shouldn't have. They barely knew each other, and Alec was keeping plenty of his own secrets, but he thought this day had been a great step into bringing them closer, and the hesitation was making him doubt that. Magnus sighed and looked straight ahead, not meeting Alec's eyes and said "Because my father is using said evidence to keep a leash on her. Before you ask, I don't know what it is, but I know that the reason she hasn't tried to get her clutches into Edom is because Father has something on her, and whatever it is, it's big enough to dissuade her. You don't know Camille, but it has to be legendary to stop her"

Alec knew there was more to the story, wanted to hear it, but Magnus' face had shuttered, and he'd gone stiff as a board, probably bracing himself for more inquiries and thinking up ways to deflect them. Luckily for him, a knock sounded at the door before it was opened and he found two pairs of eyes curiously peering at them from the doorway.

"I was expecting debauchery and some embarrassing thing I can hold over your head, but you're just sitting on the sofa looking like you're dying. That's disappointing"

Isabelle elbowed Jace and stepped into the office, smiling for Magnus' benefit probably and said "Forgive my brother. He hangs out with soldiers too much to maintain a modicum of princely manners"

"That's because I am not a prince, thank the Angel. All those meetings and scraping and bowing would bore me to death"

"It's not like you don't have to deal with your fair share of scraping and bowing. The staff are more scared of you than they are of Alec"

Jace smiled smugly "They're just intimidated by my good looks"

Izzy snorted and patted him on the cheek "Sure, brother. Whatever helps you sleep at night"

Alec just sighed and used the tone he reserved solely for his siblings' exhausting back and forth "If you're just having a conversation by yourselves, why on Earth are you having it in my office?"

Jace just raised a brow at him, and he heard the implicit "Don't worry, your turn is coming up soon" in his tone when he answered "Well, Underhill told us that you weren't going to make it to dinner again tonight, and that you were busy with prince Magnus so we thought we'd check on you, dear brother"

Isabelle raised her finger like a schoolgirl and amended "Actually, I wanted to check on you. Jace just wanted to get away from Meliorn who was peppering him with questions about his beauty regimen because his skin was, and I quote, positively glowing"

A muffled giggle made Alec turn his head to look at Magnus, to see him stifling a smile at his siblings' antics. Well, at least one of them was having fun, it seemed.

"So", Isabelle started, shaking him from getting lost staring at Magnus, which looked like a delightful way to make this awkward little reunion go by faster, "how is business going? What are you guys working on?"

Alec loved his sister, he really did, but subtlety had never been her strong suit. The baffled look Jace was giving her said that he agreed. Just as Alec was about to feed her some story to move things along, Magnus heaved himself upright and clapped his hands on his knees "Well, I'll leave you guys to it. You probably miss your brother, and I've monopolized his time enough for one day". He stood and looked at Alec with the faintest smile "we'll reconvene tomorrow?"

"Sure. Try to get some rest, and I'll send word for you once I start my day"

"Oh, the Emperor is going to send for me. I feel special", Magnus rebuked, putting a mocking hand on his chest.

He tried to temper his smile. He really did. "You just have to have the last word, don't you?"

"I take what I can get when I'm dealing with his Majesticness"

"That's not even a word! And no", he said when he could feel a rebuttal coming. That wasn't the only thing he could feel. His siblings' eyes were gouging holes into the side of his head. "Don't argue with me anymore. Go have some rest, you look  like you’re about to fall over"

"As you wish. Goodnight, your Highnesses. Goodnight, your Majesty"

"Goodnight, prince Magnus", his sister replied dazedly. Alec couldn’t say she blamed her.

He busied himself with putting away the ball of yarn Magnus was playing with, sure that the rapid-fire questions were going to start the second the door lock clicked into place, but to his surprise, all he heard was silence. The latter was worrisome enough given his meddlesome family that he turned abruptly, and found his siblings' sharing a silent conversation amongst themselves. Jace was gesturing wildly to Isabelle as she looked ready to strangle him.

By the Angel, they were deciding who was going to start it off. This was going to be an epic inquisition, apparently. He settled into his chair. If he was going to be interrogated, he might as well get comfortable.

After what felt like hours but was probably nothing more than a few seconds, Jace heaved a resigned sigh and turned to him. Isabelle had won this round, evidently.

"So, Alec", his brother started, sounding about as comfortable as a person walking barefoot on broken glass, "Is there anything you'd like to tell us about prince Magnus? I mean, your business is entirely your own, but with the coronation coming up, we just don't want you to do anything that might reflect badly on your image"

More for the sake of arguing than anything else, Alec heard himself respond " _And_ prince Magnus reflects badly on my image because...?". He left the question hanging. If they wanted to meddle, he was not about to make it easy on them.

Jace looked even more uncomfortable, but now a good dose of disbelief entered his voice as well "Come on now, Alec. Don't be obtuse. You know they call Edom the Bane of the Empire for a reason. Not many people deal with them, and even less people like them. How would it be seen if the Emperor presumptive was getting close with Edomai royalty? How do you think that would go over with the other rulers?"

It was a testament to how tired he was, that he couldn't even conjure up an iota of indignation over his brother's words, not that it made them any less wrong. The idea that somebody had the right to dictate who Alec should be seen with was laughable at best. The idea that anyone would be ashamed to be seen with _Magnus_ was horrifying at worst. "When I want their input, I'll ask them. Mind your words, Jace. I love you but I won't tolerate you treating me like an idiot child who can't choose his own company"

Jace looked appalled "That's not what I meant at all"

"Then what did you mean? Are you seriously suggesting we stop associating with people simply because the public opinion has formed preconceived notion of them? Are we as removed from reality as the rest of the Empire accuses us of being? Last time I checked, Edom was a country of Idris, so why wouldn’t I be conferring with its royal family?”

Jace had the decency to look chagrined “I didn’t mean any offense. You know I don’t think they’re all bad. I have no love lost for the South but I have nothing against the Banes or anyone else. I’m simply trying to remind you that people talk. Servants gossip and word moves through the Palace like wildfire. I don’t want anything to get in the way of you getting your rightful place”

“You have enough on your shoulders without loose tongues and roaming eyes adding to your load. We were just worried, Alec”, Isabelle said softly, probably guessing they’d slightly overstepped their boundaries.

Alec understood their worries, he really did, and he would never begrudge his siblings’ total honesty with him. He knew they cared. It wasn’t like he didn’t know the gossip mill would be at work. He’d long ago accepted scrutiny and lack of privacy as a common fallacy of his position. In fact, he didn’t even mind it. Except, the past few days were different. Ever since Magnus had set foot in the Palace, Alec was feeling off kilter, like he was splayed open for everyone to see. Feeling particularly raw and exposed was a feeling he was still getting accustomed to. Having a thousand roaming eyes and ears there to witness it all made it all the more daunting.

"You have nothing to worry about. Magnus and I are just two people working towards a common goal. He wants peace as much as I do, which is why he's been helping me look for strategies to deal with the Southern territories. Nothing nefarious is going on"

Jace still looked wary, but wisely kept his mouth shut and just nodded. He dropped into the couch Alec and Magnus had just vacated and said "I talked to Clarissa today, and before you start, I didn't do anything rash, I just wanted to make sure"

Alec was the last person to judge him for wanting to have some kind of link with Clary given how he'd been handling his own situation in the past couple of days, so he just tried to adopt the most understanding tone and said "and? Do we have a verdict yet?"

Jace smiled, and Alec didn't realize how long it's been since he's seen his brother show genuine amusement or happiness until that very moment. It was a tragic fact, but Jace had always taken life the hardest, taking everything that can go wrong in life as a personal failure on his part. Alec blamed Lady Herondale for that state of mind.

"Yeah, she's it", he exclaimed, prompting Isabelle to squeal and launch herself at him.

"I'm so happy for you, Jace. I only met her for a little while but she seemed nice."

She turned and gave Alec a wistful smile "Now if only Alec would find his name, I could stop worrying about the two of you spending your lives alone"

What little smile Alec had conjured up at his brother's news faltered before he could gather his composure, and surprisingly enough, it was dreamy eyed Jace that caught it. A small frown notched between his brows and despite the mental vibe Alec was projecting to stay off the topic, Jace asked "What is it? What was that face you just made?"

"Oh God, is prince Magnus one of them? Is that why you’re being so defensive? How did I not see it before?", Isabelle exclaimed, sounding disgruntled at her perceived shortcomings.

"No, it's not like that", Alec denied quickly, perhaps too quickly by the twin arched brows Izzy and Jace had sketched on their faces.

"I mean, not entirely. It's... complicated". Alec heaved a sigh. He was too tired to keep his stories straight, and they were like sharks, scenting blood in the water.

"Complicated? It's a yes or no question, so can you stop being so cryptic, Alec?" Jace said, annoyance ringing in his voice. He really wasn't getting out of this so easily, was he? How 13 years of silence had unraveled in three days, he didn't know, but he knew his time was up. He was going to have to deal with his siblings' nagging and theorizing and trying to find logical explanations where none applied, and he was going to dread every minute of it, but lying would just annoy them further, and he couldn't afford their wrath on top of everything else going on.

Apparently, he'd taken too long to answer for Izzy's liking because she was working herself up into a frenzy "Alexander Gideon Lightwood. If you don't tell us what is going on right this second, I swear to the Angel--"

"Fine, fine. I'll talk. Just, stop yelling. My head hurts"

"It's not the only thing that'll hurt if you don't start talking". Hands on her hips, she reminded him of his mom when he didn't want to get out of the tub after a bath as a child. He shook his head to clear it. The last thing he needed to think of was Maryse.

Deciding it was preferable to just show them, Alec started unfastening the strap holding his leather band in place. Probably sensing the importance of the moment, Isabelle and Jace both moved to sit across from his desk and get a closer look.

He let the leather band fall to the ground and presented his wrist to his siblings. The hissed breath Jace exhaled was all the indication he gave that he'd read the one name scrolled in slashing black across his skin. The tilted bold "M", the rolling letters after it, the curled up "g", the bulbous shape of the "B".

If he wasn't so nervous about their reactions, Alec would laugh at their slack jawed expressions, but as time ticked by and no response was forthcoming, he started to regret telling them. Before he could fret his life away, Isabelle intoned, in the softest voice he'd ever heard from her "Alec, why didn't you say anything? For years?"

"What does it even mean?", Jace asked, looking baffled and confused, "Is he all of the names at once? Is he just one of them, and you don't have other names?"

"We'll figure it out. I'll check the archives for anything on record like this, and I'll talk to Elias about any books about the names that we can find"

And that right there, is why he hadn't told them about it. Two seconds and they were already making a game plan to "fix" it. They would never understand that all he'd wanted was to be normal, or as normal as he could be, at least. Even now, he knew that every future conversation with the two of them would have something to do with this weird phenomenon of his, that Isabelle would worry endlessly, and Jace would go around growling at Magnus like an enraged beast for daring to be his brother's only name.

"I don't need some old dusty book to tell me what it means or what to do about it. I already had to go through that. Magnus and I have already met, remember?"

"And? All the suspense is killing me.", Isabelle exclaimed, tugging at her hair in a deranged manner

"He's my enemy and my ally, but I don't think love is in the cards for us", Alec said defeatedly.

Jace, ever the pragmatic, motioned at him with his hand "Care to elaborate on that?"

So, he did. He explained the whole ordeal, naturally being interrupted by Isabelle as she got more and more excited. He explained the sonic boom in his brain as the two feelings clicked into place, and that no matter how much he hoped for it, love remained out of reach.

"What I don't understand is how he can be both my enemy and my ally at once. I mean, how can someone want to do me harm and be my strongest supporter all at once? I've been trying to figure it out all day", Alec finished.

Isabelle looked thoughtful, and Jace's hair was sticking up everywhere as he looked at him with a dazed overwhelmed expression.

"I can't believe you knew your fiercest enemy was around you, and didn't notify me. Me! Your war general, Alec! How am I supposed to protect you when you keep this stuff from me?", Jace said.

Isabelle hit him with the back of her hand, " First of all, don't blame him for anything. The poor thing was dealing with so much and we had no idea. And second, you know that an enemy doesn't necessarily want to do you harm. We know better, Jace". They shared a look of understanding, and Jace nodded his head in acknowledgement.

Alec felt like he was missing a vital piece of the puzzle, all of a sudden "It doesn't?"

Isabelle looked back at him, and heaved a sad disappointed sigh. He never knew a sigh could pack so much emotion, but apparently, Izzy's did. She said haughtily, while unfastening her own leather band "If only you weren't so hush hush and wanted to let us share with you, you wouldn't be in this predicament"

He'd asked Jace and Isabelle not to show him their names years ago, when they'd reached ten, mostly because he feared they would ask for his names in return, and he hated to think that his sister was now feeling obliged to reciprocate what had been a gesture of good faith.

"Isabelle, you don't have to share just because I did. I'd never force you to--"

"Alec. Just stop talking and look", Jace broke in, motioning to Izzy's hand that was now, sans band, tilted up to his inspection.

"Read the names, Alec ", Isabelle said softly.

Alec diligently took a closer look and found three names scribbled upon her pale skin. The first name he read was, surprisingly, his. The realization that he was his sister's name, and that she hadn't told him in respect of his request, humbled him. He could feel a lump forming in his throat. He looked up at her, and she smiled knowingly "Who would my ally be if it wasn't my big brother? But that's not what I wanted you to see. Keep reading"

He cleared his throat to get his emotions under control, and looked back down. The second name, he'd known. Maia Greymark, proudly on display. It was the last one that made no sense. He grabbed his sister's wrist, skimming his thumb over the name, but it wasn't his tired brain conjuring it up. Isabelle Lightwood. That's what the third name was. By elimination, it could be nothing but an enemy. Her enemy.

Alec felt so confused, and it must've shown on his face, because Isabelle chuckled and said "Freaky, right?"

Alec thought of his doe-eyed little sister, finding her own name on her wrist at ten, and imagined the confusion and loneliness she must've felt. He felt like the world's biggest filth. How could he not? "I'm sorry, Izzy", he told her, misery ringing in his voice.

Her brows notched, and she lowered her wrist by her side "For what? You didn't write it there"

"For not being there for you when you found out. For putting my fear of my own name before my duty as your older brother to help you through that"

"Oh my God, Alec", Isabelle’s voice cracked with chuckles while Jace just looked at him in disbelief, "only you would miss the point of this story because you were too busy blaming yourself"

“Well, he’s hell bent on proving himself as your ally, I suppose. You’re mine too, by the way, in case you were wondering”, Jace said, looking up at him with a tender smile.

Alec was a master at control, had had the reflex to hold himself back from showing emotion drilled into him since before he could remember, but right then and there, the tethers that held him together were getting loose, frayed by frustrations and outbursts he’d suppressed for long enough, and as hard as he tried, he could feel the sheen covering his eyes, the room enveloped in the soft blur of tears he felt helpless to stop. The tumultuous feelings he’d been having for days on end, the roller coaster of highs and lows he’d been going through. The iron will to push through had only carried him this far, and even as he heard his father calling him weak for daring to succumb to something as fickle and silly as tears, he also knew these tears were his reward for having done something right. He had worked tirelessly to make sure his siblings never felt neglect or indifference; his entire life up to that point, had been dedicated to let them know he loved them enough to be there for them no matter what, and to know that they’d known all along, that the universe had known that he’d help them carry the world if they asked him to, was more of a reward to him than all the rule of the Empire combined. His siblings had felt reassured in the certainty of his affections and that was enough to scab over all the wounds the world had inflected before this moment.

“Thank you for telling me”, his voice cracked midway through the simple words, too overwhelmed to express the weight of the gift they’d given him.

“Thank _you_ , Alec. I never want to hear you say you haven’t done enough. We both know it to be a falsehood. My intention in showing you my name was not to burden you more, but to prove the relativity of what a name is supposed to be”, Isabelle said with conviction, breaking the fog he’d been floating through enough to ask “What do you mean, relative?”

“It means that an enemy doesn’t necessarily mean you harm in a physical, standard way. My lot in life is to carry on never feeling like I’m enough, for anyone. Not for you, not for Idris, and not for Maia. And before you say anything”, she spoke over his obvious objection, “I know, on a conscious level that I am, but my head and my heart don’t always see eye to eye, and I’ve learnt to live with the insecurities. Sometimes I beat them, and sometimes they beat me, but they are, for better or for worse, my constant companions through life. My inner demons are my worst enemies, and they pose far more danger than any idiot with a sword could ever inflict”

Alec looked at Isabelle, feeling an overwhelming wave of pride for his sister's attitude. He wanted to envelope her in a tight hug and apologize for everything, regardless of any guilt, or lack thereof. She held her wrist, skimming her thumb back and forth across the name and said "We all have things to deal with in life, Alec. It's the attitude we adopt that changes how these things affect us. That's actually a lesson mom taught me"

The mention of their mom made his gut tighten, a familiar feeling of dread coiling through him. He intoned, evenly "Mom probably has the worst track record of dealing with life, Isabelle. I'm not sure she's up to teach anyone anything"

"That's just it. You see, the reason I wasn't daunted by my name is because mom was there to help me through it, at least for that first year before the attack. She had the same condition. Her name was her own too"

Alec felt rocked to his core. His mother had never, before Max's death, even hinted at anything like that. Sure, she'd nagged at him about how he never told her anything when he refused to share his names, but it was just motherly teasing he'd taken with a smile on his face. He wasn't sure that knowing this little factoid about her changed anything about their current situation, but it confounded him nonetheless.

"And her reaction to the attack is exactly the lesson learned", Isabelle continued, unaware that she'd just turned his perception upside down, "She let her demons win. Seeing her fade into a shell of herself taught me never to succumb to them, to keep fighting every day. But I can't hate her for it, not when I know how easy it is to give in to the darkness"

It was moments like this, Alec thought, that made him realize how little he knew in the grand scheme of things, how young and foolish he was, and how no matter how many tutoring lessons and council sessions, the world will always be a little bit out of reach, its understanding lost on him. He prided himself on being level headed and rational, but it shamed him to think that he would never have seen his mother's catatonic state as anything more than cowardice.

"I think the point Izzy's making, Alec, is that enemies come in all shapes and forms. So, take a moment to consider what kind of danger Magnus poses to you", Jace finished.

Besides the threat to his sanity, Alec didn't really think there was much to consider. Magnus seemed friendly enough, if not an utter flirt, and he'd actually extended a hand to help, which is more than any Edomai had ever done in his lifetime. His confusion must've shown on his face, because Jace heaved a disgruntled sigh and leaned back in his chair "For being the wisest smartest person I know, you can be really thick sometimes".

Isabelle reached forward and patted his hand affectionately "Alec, when you first met Magnus, what did you feel?"

"I just finished telling you. Were you even listening to the whole itchy wrist, sonic boom, enemy status situation? That's exactly how it happened", Alec said irritably. He was so tired of having his every thought and breath overtaken by Magnus Bane. He hadn't been able to exist without those kohl-lined eyes haunting his dreams, and frankly, it was more than a little maddening.

"Alec, think. Beyond the name, beyond the surreal nature of it all, what did you feel when you first laid eyes on him?", Jace said, getting equally agitated, as if he wanted this whole discussion over with.

Well, that made two of them. He thought back to the moment he first saw him. Had it only been two days? He felt as if the event had been etched into his memory for eons. The fine clothing speckled with dirt, the bejeweled fingers and the black rimmed eyes that shined in the light, beaconing him like the promise of a wild adventure. He hadn't been able to form thoughts, let alone a coherent reaction. His heart had starting beating like a wild stallion, reminding him that fate had caught up to him, and that there was nowhere left to run.

He looked up at his siblings, who were looking at him with a knowing glint in their eyes, waiting for him to have some epiphany they were already privy to. He really didn't like how he'd spent this entire conversation playing catch up. He was the oldest. He was supposed to have all the answers, damn it!

He cleared his throat "I don't remember anything particular. Yes, I felt like I was running a marathon, and my heart was beating fast, but that seemed normal given the circumstances"

Jace grinned, and Alec recognized his smug smile "And how long has it been since you felt that way about someone?"

 _Never_. That was the first thought that came to mind. Never. He'd never felt like that before, and he was almost certain no one other than Magnus would ever be able to evoke such wild emotions within him.

The answer was not needed, apparently, because Izzy squeezed the hand he hadn't realized she was still holding and said "Think about it, Alec. You've spent so long thinking of your heart as the enemy, that the moment it started beating, you feared your life was in danger. Magnus is your enemy because he makes you feel after being numb for so long, and I love you to death, brother, but you have to admit you haven't let much penetrate your shell in forever"

Could the answer really be as easy and as complicated as that? He would be the first to admit that he wasn’t the most emotive person, and that the weight of Magnus’ name had always shadowed him around, making him do whatever it took to spare his heart the pain of disappointment.

Jace and Isabelle said very little after that, choosing to let him think on their words on his own. Eventually, they invited themselves to his rooms where they ordered a late dinner for three. Jace could put away twice his body weight in food, and Isabelle hadn’t eaten much at the banquet. Apparently, it had been a venison pie dinner, and Isabelle was known not to eat any after Jace had shown her a baby deer in the woods one day when they were eleven.

Luckily for his fried brain, they let off on the philosophical questions for that part of the evening, and simply let him unwind in the presence of his favorite people.

* * *

 

The look of awe on the cooks’ faces when Magnus had entered the Palace kitchens will forever be one of his favorite memories of this place. Back in Edom, the servants were too hassled, too frightened to ever express such emotions as awe. Here in Idris, these people took pride in their work, did their jobs with zeal and passion, and looked ecstatic to have one more person to feed after the dinner rush had passed, which instituted them firmly in sainthood territory in Magnus’ book. He really hadn’t planned on making himself a nuisance, but after the day he and Alexander had had, going to bed on an empty stomach would result in a splitting headache in the morning. So, he’d made a slight detour on the way to his room, and just followed the noises and the bustle. The kitchen staff was finishing up and getting settled to have their own meal when he’d come in, and instead of being annoyed at having to feed another fussy royal in their downtime, they’d graciously offered him a chunk of cheese, a loaf of bread and the spiciest most delicious venison stew he’d had the pleasure of consuming, all the while apologizing profusely for the poor meal -their words, not his-, as if it wasn’t his own fault for having missed the dinner banquet.

After a few minutes of awkward silence where everyone looked into their stew as if it held all the secrets of the universe, a sweet toned girl asked him if he wanted a pint of Idrisian stout to drink with his dinner. Apparently “No, thank you. I’d rather have Edomai sand than drink that monstrosity they call stout” was enough of an answer to break the ice with a bunch of servants who shared his distate for the dry sour drink. Chuckles rung out, shoulders relaxed and faces lit up with smiles. The meal turned lively, people unwinding after a full day of bustling around. Some asked him about life in Edom, but most just seemed content to listen, as he regaled them with stories of growing up in the desert, and how, as a child, he was convinced he would be eaten by deadly black Shax scorpions in his sleep. Actual good stout was served, and Magnus actually felt the worries quiet down for a while.

It was eerie how sometimes happiness could be found in the little moments. A simple fair with simple people, satisfied after an honest day’s work, shedding their burdens to enjoy a pint and share a laugh. Magnus had isolated himself from people for so long, and he’d missed this. He’d missed the comfort you could find in seeing someone laugh at your joke, of watching the candlelight jump over laugh lines and hand gestures. He’d missed the warmth being around people brought. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it, actually, until he spent an entire day basking in Alexander’s attention. Those hazel eyes flicking up at him had been a welcome balm to his weary soul.

He’d admitted to himself, after his meeting with prince Meliorn that he’d judged Alexander Lightwood harshly, but it took a day spent in his presence to realize just how much. Alec was whip smart, very astute and impeccably reserved, which should’ve irritated Magnus to no end, but he found he rather enjoyed pushing his buttons and seeing him unravel little by little, eyes flaring with emotions neither of them felt equipped to handle yet. He couldn’t help but flirt with the man, both hoping and dreading for something to come of it. The indecision had clawed at him all day, but he enjoyed the feeling of euphoria that accompanied Alec’s laugh too much to stop. Wasn’t it just his luck, that when he made the conscious decision to start feeling again, he was to be bombarded with the cacophony of emotions those hazel eyes evoked?

A hearty laugh brought him back to the oak table, when Leo, the head cook, was pounding his fist on the surface, cackling at someone’s impression of a pompous nobleman. Requests started flying about, each person around the table demanding a different impression, spanning all the gentry of the Empire. Drowsy after a good meal, and feeling the pleasant buzz from his second cup of dark stout, Magnus rose to bid the table goodnight. Pleas for him to stay and drink some more rose with him, and he could genuinely hug them for making him breathe a little easier tonight. Leo leaned back in his seat and said “Thank you for joining us, your Highness. You’re a good egg”

Magnus deepened his voice, squinted an eye like he’d seen Raph do so many times and adopted that DuMortian stillness he knew by heart “Who are you calling an egg, old man?”

It had been a wonky try at best, but the group hooted and started cracking up, some telling him to hide before Commander Santiago found him. He held his hand up in goodbye and left the kitchen with a lingering smile.

* * *

 

After a surprising good night of sleep, Magnus woke up ready to tackle the day ahead, letting his valet dress him in a black shirt stitched in metallic gold, black trousers and a deep burgundy jacket draped smartly over them. It was a testament to how excited he was to start the day that he let his trustee valet fuss for mere minutes before he declared his hair ready to face the morning dew and set off towards the dining Hall for breakfast, hoping against all hope to find Alexander already there.

Unfortunately for him and his fanciful heart, the long table at the end of the room was deserted save for King Lucian whom he suspected was there as a courtesy to his daughter Maia, who was seated across from him. As he tried to inconspicuously find a table where people would be the least tempted to ruin his morning cheer with incessant gossip, Greymark caught sight of him, and smiled congenially, waving him over.

Magnus headed for the table, ignoring the titters and whispers being exchanged behind cloth fans as gossip abounded about the Edomai prince being summoned to the royal table. He slid into a chair and greeted his companions, who somehow were more chipper than he was. Morning people, Magnus thought, were a rare breed that must be protected at all costs.

Lucian Greymark carried the conversation with light happy banter while his daughter teased him endlessly. Magnus wisely shoveled food into his mouth and listened to their delightful conversation, relishing the giddy warmth of contentment and feeling another puzzle piece of the mess in his head slide into place.

It was a rather clever joke of fate that the place where he’d gone to lose what little crumbs of his soul he had left, was the place where he was finally starting to pick up the pieces. He let the flow of the Greymarks’ conversation wash over him, until he noticed they’d gone silent. He lifter his head to find them both looking at him expectantly, and realized they must have asked him a question.

“I’m sorry, what?”, he asked sheepishly.

Lucian grinned and repeated “I asked if you’re enjoying Alicante?”

Magnus couldn’t help but smile back “Oh, tremendously. Everyone has been so kind”

“I bet they have”, Maia piped up with a knowing smirk on her face. He should’ve known that Isabelle was the kind of spouse that told her wife everything, even when there was nothing to tell.

He would have loved to actually shock her with the debauched ideas floating around his head when it came to her brother-in-law, but he despaired of the words making it back to him. Alexander had barely started tolerating his presence. He wouldn’t ruin whatever friendship they were building, no matter how many times he was bound to fall into the creases of his smile like a lust drunk fool. So, he adopted his best clueless expression and just nodded serenely.

Lucian changed the subject then to discuss the upcoming festivities and the military show to be held tomorrow, so the war general could pledge the Army’s allegiance to the new Emperor. Maia commented about how both Jace and Alec thought that it was a waste of time, as the whole purpose of the coronation coming up in three days was the Allegiance ceremony, and Magnus remembered Alec moaning about the stupidity of it all the day before, grumbling adorably, unaware of the stifling urge Magnus had had to sneak up and kiss the underside of his jaw.

He seemed to be having those thoughts plenty these couple of days, momentary lapses of sanity where he envisioned putting his hands on Alexander’s hips, or nuzzling into his graceful neck. He wouldn’t say that it was a novelty that he found Alec Lightwood to be attractive, but he found himself wanting to touch him in affectionate ways, in careful ways, instead of the raging passion that would result in ripped garments and vivid love marks. His attentions were more on a slow simmer, which he had never thought himself capable of. It appeared everything felt new where Alexander Lightwood was involved; The thought should not have felt as enticing as it did.

* * *

 

Alec had just settled in his office for the morning when Steven came bounding into the room like a man on a mission. He stood directly in front of the desk, crossed his arms and glowered at Alec menacingly. It was cute of him to think Alec would be threatened by the stink eye he was giving him, and Alec would have been, perhaps, if he hadn’t seen the strapping man cry from spicy peppers after a dare gone awry a few weeks ago.

“Good morning, Steven. Who spit in your morning tea?”

“Don’t get cute, your Majesty”, Steven snarled. Oh, he was breaking out the honorary! He really was angry, Alec thought. “I have to hear tales of political machinations and assassination attempts from your brother? What am I, a pin cushion, Alec? How could you not tell me about any of this?”

Alec genuinely felt a dash of remorse for keeping Steven in the dark. Besides his duty as a friend, it hindered the man from doing his job. However, he’d been so worried about his plans coming unraveled, that he’d reverted back to his secretive ways and plotting devices.

“You’re right”, he conceded, holding up his palms in surrender, “It was a poor choice not to inform you, but in my defense, I was never in any real danger”

“Says who? As much as it would make my life and my job easier, you’re not invincible, Alec. You can’t keep managing things this way-“

A noise by the door cut Steven off, and they both turned to see Clary shuffling backward through the doorway. She blushed bright red at being caught and stammered “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll come back later”

“No, it’s alright, Clary, come in. Underhill was just railing at me for not telling him about our little spy game, so you should probably suffer with me”, Alec teased.

If looks could kill, the glare Steven sent his way would have them preparing Isabelle to take over the Empire just about now. Alec didn’t really play fair. He knew Steven had a little sister about Clary’s age and would never try to make another girl upset or uncomfortable even to yell at his best friend, so that glare was an omen of retribution, and Alec would have to deal with it another day, when there were no witnesses to the skin curdling scolding he would get. He felt as if that had become his motto to handle the last few days. “We’ll deal with it another day”, and frankly, he couldn’t tell if it was working or if he was wading through muddy waters with no way out.

Steven took his leave to stay in his station outside the door, still huffing and puffing like a disgruntled oaf, and Clary watched him go with fascinated delight. “What’s his deal?”, she asked with glee.

Alec just shook his head in resignation and changed the subject “What has you skipping into my office like your heels are on fire?”

“I have news first, and a request of sorts”. Clary started fidgeting with the hem of her shirt and was looking everywhere but at him, which was so unlike the quirky assassin he was getting to know, that he immediately worried.

“How about you start with this request you have?”, he started in even tone, like a stable master approaching a skittish horse.

“Um, so funny thing happened”, she started, chuckling nervously, “your brother, Jace, the general…um”

“I know what his name is and what his title is, Clary. Go on”, he shot back, amusement creeping into his face as he guessed where this was going.

She shot him a glare for daring to laugh at her discomfort and blurted out in a rush “ _HeaskedmeoutonadateandIwannasayyes_!”

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that a little slower?”, he asked, full on smiling now.

She threw a couch cushion at him that he caught before it smacked him in the face, and then smiled, relaxing a bit now that she managed to get the words out.

“So, Jace asked you out on a date, and you want to say yes? What do you need from me?”, he asked, his chuckles finally subsiding.

She swallowed roughly and said “I know I act as if we’re all good now, but I wasn’t sure you’d be alright with your brother courting me. After all, I did come here with nefarious intentions and still am, for all intents and purposes, an operating agent of the Clave. I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes”

Alec considered her for a moment, thinking of how the world sometimes put the gentlest of souls into the direst of situations. If he didn’t know she could make a weapon out of a spoon, he would never believe it. He was glad that his brother’s name was someone as kindhearted as Clary, but he felt like he needed to make one thing clear to her first “Clary, you do not need my permission to do anything, _ever_. You and Jace are both mature adults who can make their own choices. I am not your boss, and by making a deal with me, you’re not exchanging one set of shackles for another. I freely offered my help, and you rewarded me with the gift of your loyalty and friendship. I do not take my friends for granted. So, if you like my idiot brother, go out with him. If you don’t, I’ll tell him to back off, but I want it to be clear that your days of being pressured into decisions is behind you”

Clary’s expression softened the more he spoke, and by the time he finished, her eyes were shining. “Thank you, Alec. I’m so glad I was sent here to kill you”. Her attempt to alleviate the mood worked, as he laughed at her impudence and asked her to share the news she mentioned.

“Oh, that! Well, we definitely got Camille in a panic. Her majesty’s missive arrived early this morning. It appears she’s attending the coronation after all”, Clary declared.

For all of Alec’s plans and plotting, he hadn’t expected Camille’s countermove to be that. He didn’t know what she hoped to accomplish by showing up in Alicante. Naturally, she’d deny her involvement in any of it, but just how far was she willing to go? How would she justify her abrupt arrival? He felt like he needed to discuss this with Magnus, as he knew her better than most. Maybe he could shed light on her motives.

* * *

 

Magnus reached the door to Alec’s office, finding a disgruntled Underhill out front. He would have struck up a conversation right then, except the towering blond was already glowering at him. “Need I body check you for snakes, your Highness? Or have you let the reptiles slither away in peace?”

Magnus was aware that the man hadn’t received the best first impression of him, but must he really hold such a grudge? It was arduous. Nevertheless, he insisted on not letting the day get to him yet. He just smiled blithely and said “No, I’m afraid Jerrico was the only snake up my sleeve. Is Alexander in his office?”

The use of Alec’s first name seemed to incense Steven even further, and he muttered underneath his breath, even as he ducked his head into the office to inform Alec that prince Magnus was there to see him. Alec’s melodic voice sounded, then Underhill was pushing the door open further and gesturing him in, all the while giving him a death glare. Magnus stepped around him and went inside, greeting Alexander and sitting across from him, as the door closed.

“Well, your guard is a cheerful fellow. Is he always this ornery, or do I just give him the warm and fuzzies?”

Alexander smiled and waved away his concerns “He’s in a mood this morning. Please ignore him. I hope you had a good night, and apologize for my siblings last night”

Magnus was shaking his head before Alec even finished talking “No, not at all. They were wildly entertaining. I love your relationship. And yes, I slept well, thank you! How are you?”

“Well, I was fine until a few minutes ago, and now I’m perplexed. It appears Queen Camille sent a missive”

Magnus could feel his face shriveling up into a sour expression and didn’t know how to stop it “Already? How are your messengers terribly efficient?”

Alec chuckled “Well, we are the Capital of the Empire. We need constant swift communication, which is why we have the fastest falcons”

Magnus almost smiled at the hint of pride he could detect in Alec’s voice. It seemed to him lately, that nothing this man did could inspire less than complete adoration. “Alright, and what did Camille decree about this mess? Is she sending her troops or asking the dignitary to run back to DuMort?”

“Worse, actually. She’s coming here herself”

It was painfully jarring how everything faded all of a sudden, how Alexander’s words became intelligible under the weight of his heartbeat, and how he took breath for granted until he realized he couldn’t breathe. The ice in his veins, the shaking of his limbs and the sudden darkness around the edges of his vision looped him in quickly enough as to what was happening. He hadn’t had one in nearly a year. He thought he was past this feeling of helplessness where his limbs didn’t listen to him and air came in short bursts, just enough to tease him with the possibility of breathing. He thought that managing to say her name out loud had meant that he won, that the demon was excavated from his brain and that she no longer had power over him. He never knew how long the episodes would last, and he could never order himself out of them. If only he could cry, if only he could let the tears fall, and maybe those would be the flag that told people he was in dire need of help, but as it always did, his throat closed up and his eyes remained dry. Magnus could feel his heart pounding in his chest, asking him to do better, to feel better, to stop being so weak and flawed and to move on! It had been three years! There had to be some expiration date on trauma. There had to be a limit where your body said enough and stopped giving in to the panic and the fear, because Magnus was so very tired of feeling like a failure in his own skin.

He just sat there looking at his twitching hands, unable to think beyond the harsh sound of his chopped breaths, when Alec kneeled in front of his chair. He’d somehow forgotten he was in the office, and remembering that this was happening in front of Alec somehow made it worse. What must he think of him? This strong capable person who wouldn’t understand a fallacy as mundane as this? He waited to see the disdain, hear the condemnation, but Alexander simply put his hands over his shaking ones and started to talk, slowly and surely “Breathe with me, Magnus. It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay. Just breathe with me, alright. Follow my lead”. He then started gently inhaling through his nose, then exhaling through his mouth, puckering his lips to show him what to do. Magnus just followed the sound of his voice, and tried his best. He must’ve looked like a fool for a few seconds before Alexander managed to get through the fog, and Magnus began copying his movements, focusing solely on the sound of his voice and the vibrant shards in his eyes.

A few minutes later, Magnus’s limbs finally unfurled from their stiffness, and he could feel his lungs getting in enough air to keep from panting for it. Alexander must’ve felt the switch as well because he smiled faintly and said “Are you okay?”

Magnus just swallowed roughly, trying to get himself together, and that’s when he felt the rush of tears. Of course, that was when the waterworks started. He tilted his face down to hide them, but Alexander must’ve glimpsed them, because he stood up and put his arms around Magnus’ shoulders, bringing Magnus’ head into his midsection. The warmth and gentleness of the gesture broke some invisible tether, and Magnus let out a sob, burying his forehead against Alec’s stomach, and just let the raging torrent inside of him out.

He thought he heard Alexander sigh a sad “Oh, Magnus!”, while his arms tightened around his shoulders, a hand reaching up to rub his head. He just stood there like a pillar that Magnus could lean on, and he did, heavily. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried so hard, but despite the shame and embarrassment he should be feeling, he just felt safe to feel, with those bands of steel around him, keeping the reality away.

They stayed like that for a long time, until Magnus felt hollowed out and drained, Alexander’s hand gently sifting through his hair. He didn’t want to move his head, but reality had other plans; A knock at the door had them breaking apart, and Magnus turned his head away to try and wipe away the mess he’d probably made of his kohl.

Steven told Alec that Jia had sent a note asking him to join her for a meeting about tomorrow’s military show, and Magnus could feel Alec’s eye roll with his back turned, as he told Steven to somehow misplace that note, then asked him to clear his morning because he was otherwise occupied.

Magnus perked up at that, turning around to tell Alexander not to bother, but the infuriating man just dismissed his guard and said to him “Don’t argue with me, Magnus. You are in no state to work right now, and I want to have this conversation somewhere we won’t be interrupted every five minutes, so just come with me? Please?”. Magnus thought he had an inkling about the conversation Alec felt like they needed to have, and while he wasn’t looking forward to it, he knew he would do anything this man asked him to.

* * *

 

Alec closed the door and turned to see Magnus fidgeting by the foot of the bed, taking in the room as if trying to find all his secrets. He must’ve noticed Alec’s gaze because he smiled sheepishly and said “Don’t judge me for snooping. I can’t be held accountable since you brought me here”. Alec knew that by doing that, he was making a definite line in the sand when it came to Palace gossip and hearsay, but after the scene in his office, he needed to attest to himself that Magnus was alright, and if he wanted to do so in the comfort of his own chambers, then that was his business. He will never forget the empty blank look that descended on Magnus’ face and the terror he’d felt when his words wouldn’t breach whatever barrier Magnus had put between himself and his surroundings; He wouldn’t push, but he planned to try his best to get Magnus to open up about what had occurred.

He crossed to the little cart of tumblers in the corner of the room, and held up an opaque bottle to Magnus “Stout? It’s a bit early, but I feel you’ve earned it”. Magnus wrinkled his nose adorably and asked “Origins?”

“Idrisian of course”

Magnus’ mouth twitched and he said “No, thank you. I wouldn’t say no to that bottle of dark wine though”

Alec poured two glasses of DuMortian wine, apt for the occasion, handed one to Magnus and sat on one of the armchairs by his bed, while Magnus settled at the edge of the mattress, as if ready to sprint at any time.

As Alec tried to find the right words to initiate the conversation, Magnus started talking in a hushed tone, head tilted into his wine glass “I haven’t had a panic attack that severe, in a year or so. I’m sorry if I freaked you out”

Alec just shook his head “You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just want you to be okay”

Magnus smiled grimly “You’re a gentle soul, Alexander. You put up a good front with the blank face and the stoic air, but I see through you. You have a sweet heart”. He looked off towards the window and started talking, unprompted “I didn’t think she still had such a hold on me. I guess I underestimated just how much I’d buried inside from my time with Camille”

He then proceeded to tell Alec the most heartbreaking story, about a young prince who’d been betrothed since childhood to a neighboring country’s princess, how the young prince had accepted that fate since childhood, eager to earn his father’s approval, had dedicated his life to a betrothed he met twice a year. He told him about the princess, whose very sight made the young prince’s heart beat out of his chest, how he barely had time to engage her in conversation because she had been older and already busy with duties he hadn’t taken up, how the prince had fancied himself in love, building dreams of futures intertwined, how she knew just how to tug on that rope enough to keep him at her mercy, but never give enough of herself. He told Alec of the prince growing up on crumbs of a relationship he kept alive with the beacon of hope that he just needed to grow up enough to matter to the princess, turned queen then; how that when he did grow up, he was sent to her country for a year, to familiarize himself with this place they would jointly rule, how happy he’d been to finally be by her side, and how it had all come crashing down when he realized she had never been faithful and never planned to be, how it had all been a stupid fantasy his naïve heart had made up, and then he told him of the taunts and the jeers, the ridicule he had to suffer at her hands about his stupid little heart. The prince had objected then, he said, decided to go home and break the engagement off, because he wanted a family before he wanted an alliance, but that he hadn’t taken into consideration how far the queen was willing to go to get her hands on his country; The prince had forgotten that he was a mere guest in a place where she reigned supreme, had threatened and promised, but to no avail. He told him of the captivity that followed, a hostage guest shackled to his quarters, held in a personal Hell where all he could do was imagine a lifetime spent with the monster she was, how she had easily made a joke out of him, made him feel young and foolish and stupid, made him realize how incapable he was to fight back. He told him of the weekly visits, where she brought in her goons and asked him one simple question “Are you willing to marry me now?”, and how every rejection had meant many scars, how the physical pain had been the one thing that made the emotional one recede for a bit, how the prince had just finally let the numbness take over, until one day, a few months later, when a friend finally made it through the ranks to amass enough power to break him out. He told Alec of going back home under the cover of darkness, of lying to his father about the motives of his return, out of fear of starting a bloody war, how he would have been content to lay in hiding forever had she not come to finalize the marriage as if nothing had happened, and how he had broken down, not unlike he had today, kneeled at his father’s feet and begged him to spare him of that destiny, how his father had listened for once, and had held her off with some dark secret he had, sparing the prince from seeing her again, until now.

By the time Magnus finished his story, he was lying on the bed with his head on Alec’s pillow, looking up at the ceiling, his eyes red. He had to keep clearing his throat to keep his voice from breaking, and Alec felt like he could end Camille with his bare hands, then torch the whole of DuMort to the ground. The power of his rage surprised him, as he was not a man prone to violence, but hearing Magnus tell the story of the cruelty he had to endure, seeing the effect it still had on him after three years fired up all his protective instincts, making him want to do everything in his power to never see harm come to this man again.

“I swear to you, Magnus. As long as I’m around, she will not do you harm. She will not come near you nor speak a word in your presence. Say the word and she stays outside the city gates”

Magnus actually laughed and turned his head to look at him at that “Don’t be absurd, Alexander. We still need to bring her down for trying to kill you”

“And we will! But not at the expense of your peace of mind. She doesn’t get to play with your head again, I’ll make sure of it”

“I feel so stupid. I was finally breathing a little easier, and I thought it meant… It doesn’t matter. It seems that for every step forward, I take three steps back”

“Never”, Alec said, his conviction ringing in his voice “You got out. You made it, and just the fact that you can talk to me about it is a huge step. I won’t let you bring yourself down over this, do you hear me, Magnus?”

Magnus didn’t say anything to that, just looked at him in a way that made Alec feel the slightest bit self-conscious, then smiled softly, his eyes drifting shut then slowly opening. Anyone would feel drained after that, Alec thought. He felt like curling up next to him himself, but he had something to do first. He gingerly rose from his chair and moved over to the bed, taking off Magnus’ shoes and draping a quilt over him. As he moved away, he felt Magnus grab onto his sleeve. His eyes were at half mast, and he had the gentlest smile on his beautiful face, as if purging himself of that story had lightened his heart somehow “Thank you for listening, Alexander”

Alec grabbed his hand and squeezed gently “Thank you for trusting me with your truth. Take a nap. I have some errands to run, but I’ll be back with some lunch”

He dropped Magnus’ hand gently, then made his way to the door. He heard Magnus’ soft words as he opened it “You’re going to spoil me so much I’m not going to want to leave”

Alec just smiled and left the room. _Maybe that was his plan_.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a hard chapter to write, namely because it felt very personal to me, but I thought it was important to share because I'm sure I'm not the only one who's ever flet that way. So if you have ever felt like Magnus, I just wanted you to know you're seen, you're strong and you're worth it <3


	5. The Scribe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello beautiful people! I'm back with another chapter, and I finally brought the fluff <3
> 
> Enjoy your reading! I hope you like it <3

Alec left his office feeling a bit more in control of the mayhem that had become his life lately. After a grueling meeting with Jace, Lydia and Steven, during which he made himself a nuisance and insisted on learning all the security measures they had in place for the next few days, he could rest a bit more at ease about Magnus. He didn’t think Camille would be reckless enough to try attacking him, but the woman was enough of a lunatic to send an assassin after him in his own home, so he wasn’t going to base Magnus’ safety on what was dictated by logic.

He knew Jace was more than capable of seeing to his safety, but this wasn’t only about him now, and in complete honesty, he’d needed to keep his mind busy with something, because idleness was accompanied by the timbre of Magnus’ voice as he told him of the beating and the taunting, and the sheen of tears in his eyes as he fought for every breath, unsure if he could take another, and Alec would feel like bursting all over again. In fact, even after he’d barked at his brother and staff for an hour straight, he still felt like a ticking bomb. He wanted to dispel this energy somehow, but also wanted to check on Magnus. He didn’t want him to wake up to an empty room.

A hand clapped him on the shoulder, and he almost dislocated his brother’s arm. By the Angel, he needed to get a hold of himself.

“Come on, come with me”, Jace said, nodding his head towards the barracks.

Alec just shook his head “I have somewhere to be, Jace. Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait”

He moved past his brother, but a desperate “Alec” made him stop in his tracks. Jace just said evenly “Do you really think you can get anything done in this state?”

“What state? I’m perfectly fine”, Alec lied.

Jace just sighed “Look. I don’t know what triggered the state of emergency you just launched in that meeting, and I’m sure you have every right to be feeling this jittery, and I know you like to leave brute force to us, army brats”, he said with a smirk, “but I think you might need to diffuse some of the tension running through your body before you go back to Magnus”

Alec just arched a brow, and Jace shrugged helplessly “What? If you wanted to be discreet, you did a really shitty job of it. There’s already a betting pool happening in the barracks on where prince Magnus is sitting during the military show tomorrow”

“And I’m sure you had nothing to do with it”, Alec replied sarcastically.

Jace raised a dramatically offended hand to his sternum “I would never! And in totally unrelated news, I’ll have some extra money to buy you something if he sits on the balcony with the rest of the family”

Alec just rolled his eyes and followed him into the big training courtyard where soldiers were hard at work keeping their skills sharp. Archers aimed at mechanically moving targets, swordsmen clashed blades as they tried to get past metallic shields, and a couple of impressively built soldiers were sans armor, engaged in hand-to-hand combat, grunting and growling to the cheer and amusement of the surrounding crowd.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea, Jace. I don’t feel like being careful right now”, Alec said worriedly. The last thing he wanted was to expose some poor unsuspecting soldier to his burgeoning temper.

“As if I would put any of my men in your path! Don’t worry, I found you the perfect match”, he tilted his head to the doors from which they’d come in, to see Steven and Clary strolling through, the latter already dressed in supple battle leathers, her daggers strapped to her thighs.

“I figured she’d give you a run for your money at least”, Jace continued.

“Oh, yes! And I’m sure that’s all you were thinking when you asked your heartmate to wear a body fitting leather suit and come spar with me”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I knew nothing about the suit, but I sure am not complaining”. If he hadn’t been feeling too high strung to function, Alec would laugh at the awestruck expression on Jace’s face. As it was, he just wanted to fight.

The pair reached them right then, Clary already sliding into a defensive stance, her battle instincts kicking in, no doubt. She smiled impishly at him “I heard my skills were required to soothe some ruffled royal feathers”

“She was too excited at the prospect of fighting you, I’ll let you know”, Steven said, suspicion leaking into his voice.

“It’s not my fault. This place is just so boring. Even spying isn’t fun anymore because nobody even realizes I’m sneaking around”, Clary replied, pouting like a five-year-old.

“I don’t even know what to say to that”, Jace said, brows notched as he tried to absorb her admission that she was spying on Palace grounds. Anyone else would already be taken to the gallows for interrogation. Man, his brother was whipped already.

Alec looked down at his sensible shoes, double breasted vest and linen pants. He was severely overdressed for a sparring match. He excused himself to change into more fitting attire.

Upon his return, he found most of the courtyard cleared, ongoing matches delegated to a shaded corner, not to mention more of a congregated crowd than before. Did Jace think he was going to release blasts of magical energy or something? By the Angel, this was turning out to be a headache he had no use for. His dismay must’ve been obvious because Jace came up to him, clapped him on the back and whispered urgently “I know what you must be thinking, but you need the release, and call me an opportunist, but the men need to see this. It’ll earn their allegiance more than any show and pony we put on”

His brother had a point, so Alec rolled his shoulders to release some tension, and moved to the makeshift arena formed by the gaggle of people surrounding it. Clary was already there, jumping in place, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. She nodded at him and said “So, swords, staffs or hand to hand?”

He motioned to her strapped daggers and said “How about you make use of those pretty knives, huh?”

Clary just grinned bigger, and honestly, that bloodthirsty expression was exactly what Alec needed right then “I thought you’d never ask”

Steven handed him his trusty blades, and he turned to see Clary assuming an offensive position. As if he would let her have the first shot! He quickly jabbed his dagger to the right, and she stepped to the left, raising her own blade to counter his move. She then tried feigning to the right, but he saw the maneuver coming. That was the beauty of fighting someone with the same training of you. You could get lost in the familiarity of the moves, dance through the choreography of the fight, like two performers with rehearsed lines, going on for a while, and then, when your brain wanted to rebel, you changed the tune, took a step back instead of a step to the right, aimed low instead of head-on, and you even got a nick for your troubles.

The crowd cheered, and Steven called a point for his Majesty. Clary just looked at the small tear in her suit and the drops of blood it was leaking, wiped them with her palm, then looked up at him, still smiling devilishly. “Again”, she said.

Alec smiled back, and adjusted his stance. Maybe Jace knew a thing or two about stress relief, after all.

* * *

 

Magnus stood, shoulder braced against the pillar, watching the courtyard below with a smile on his face. Hearing about Alec’s training the other day had created ample space for all kinds of fantasies to fill his dirty lewd brain, but nothing could have prepared him for the real thing.

He’d woken up from his nap well rested enough to venture outside Alexander’s room in search of some food, when he’d seen maids tittering in the corridor, running around whisper-shouting about the Emperor training, and well, Magnus couldn’t be blamed for quickening his steps just a little to the nearest balcony.

The crowd around the haphazard arena was going insane, counting hits, stomping boots and shouting incoherent advice about how the two opponents could decimate each other. The excitement was infectious, and Magnus found himself leaning forward, wanting to be part of it. Just then, Alec twisted his upper body sharply to the right, avoiding a charging Clarissa, who drew back as fast as she struck. She was a blur of black and fiery red as she moved, brandishing her daggers like extensions of herself, and Magnus couldn’t help but think of different scenarios, ones where Alec didn’t recognize the redheaded assassin, where he wasn’t as skilled a fighter, and he thought of where that would have led him. He’d have missed out on the warmth of those hazel eyes; he’d have never known the feel of those hands sifting through his hair; he’d have never heard the sound of his laughter and never got to feel those arms around him, and that reality seemed bleaker and colder than anything he could ever imagine. He felt like he needed to feel Alec’s warmth near just to dispel the ice that had settled on his shoulders.

A roar shot through the crowd, and Magnus focused back on the fight, just in time to see Alec clutching his upper arm, blood seeping through his fingers. Magnus’ heart lodged in his throat, but the idiot didn’t even seem to care that he’d just sustained an injury. He just smiled at his opponent, while she twirled her knives and waited for a man in spectacles to assess the injury. He could see Alec shaking his head, mouthing “I’m fine”, and asking the man to move back. Jace stood on his other side, and whispering something in Alec’s ear that made him look up. Their eyes caught and held, and Alexander let loose the most infectious smile. Magnus could feel the warmth entirely suffuse him from the tenderness of it. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had happened, but he would wager that it had started on the night he got to Alicante, and saw a man so beautiful he almost wept, but in that moment, Magnus could finally admit it to himself. He was falling for Alexander, hard and fast and with absolutely no qualms about his personal safety, but it was the truth.

He’d fallen every time Alec surprised him with his kindness, every time he made him feel safe, every time he made him laugh, but most of all, he’d fallen because the simple thought of him made Magnus feel more alive than he had in years. The kaleidoscope of emotions rushing through him should have made him wary. After all, he’d spent a lifetime conjuring up feelings in his mind, and what felt like another lifetime dealing with the aftermath of his own illusions, but somehow, his heart was proving more courageous than the rest of him, freefalling into the unknown.

He smiled back at the man who was slowly but surely bringing him back to life, brightening spots in his heart, airing out room for himself in the cold dark nooks of his soul. The fight continued, gaining speed and intensity until Alec and Clarissa were nothing but a blur, the sound of their clashing daggers the only indicator they had to gauge their steps. The crowd moved with them, basically salivating at the beauty of the dance they performed, accentuating hits with ruckus and enthusiastic bellows. Clarissa got nicked two more times, Alec once before something changed in the way he fought. Magnus was no expert on combat techniques, but his strikes became somehow more vicious and decisive, as if he was over the whole thing and wanted to bring a quick end to it. In a maneuver that brought out the fine lines of his form, Alec twisted his blade around Clarissa’s twice, positively bending her arm at an angle that forced her to drop the dagger. A swift kick to her inner knee forced her to drop and lose balance of her other dagger, leaving her defenseless to a smirking Alexander who stood above her, slightly panting, blades aimed at her throat.

Magnus caught his breath, expecting her to be enraged at the dirty trick, but she just threw her head back and laughed, saying something Magnus couldn’t catch from up here, making the congregating crowd join in. A cheer rose, and Jace said in a commanding voice that carried across the quad “To the Emperor”. The men joined in, repeating the words with jovial merriment, stomping their feet and beating on their breastplates, and Magnus understood then, how the Lightwoods managed to rule the Empire uncontested for so long. His family had made him believe that people followed them out of fear, but looking at the people down there, looking at Alexander like he was going to save them from themselves if need be, Magnus understood that they did it out of awe. Maybe the legends were true, and the Angels had blessed their line, or maybe it was just that Lightwood charm at work, that compelling personality that made you sit up and pay attention, because you knew someone great was in your midst. Whatever it was, Magnus felt like he could hardly blame them. After all, he was afflicted with the same all-consuming awe.

Somewhere in the excitement down below, Alec had disappeared. Magnus flitted his eyes searching for that strapping form, hoping to catch another glimpse of those tantalizing eyes, when a voice whispered in his ear “And here I thought you were still asleep”.

Shivers broke out on Magnus’ nape, as he turned to face the object of his thoughts. A sheen of sweat glistened off his skin, and his cotton shirt was drenched. He was panting, his hair matted to his head in several places, eyes bright with the rush of the fight. He was the most beautiful man Magnus had ever seen. Words became a foreign concept that he had to conjure up, and even as he did, his tongue felt too heavy, his thoughts all jumbled up and twisted at the sight of him “Did you run up here?” was the only bright response he could come up with.

Alec smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at his boots, as if just now realizing the same thing “Maybe”. He looked back up at Magnus and said “I ended the fight quickly after I saw you up here. I wanted to make sure you were alright”

Magnus could feel his heart expand at the words, carving more room inside his chest to make space to contain all the ways Alexander made him feel. He reached his hand up to Alec’s forearm to reassure him that he was just fine when Alec winced. Magnus belatedly remembered the injury “The question is, are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I completely forgot about it in the haze of the fight, but it doesn’t hurt much”, Alec replied as he poked at the wound, wincing slightly.

Magnus caught his hand in his, hissing at him to stop. Alec looked back at him, a flame of amusement lighting up those hazels “Are you worried about me, Magnus? Afraid a little nick is going to do me in for an early grave?”

“Frankly, I’m a little affronted that she managed to nick you at all. Aren’t you supposed to be this all-knowing assassin?”; Magnus huffed, rolling his eyes for good measure.

Alec’s smile got a little bigger “You realize that so is she, right?”

“Oh, yes. So, maybe she actually let you win. Wouldn’t want to make you look bad in front of your soldiers and all, now. Would she?” At this point, Magnus was just riling him up, wanting to prolong the levity of the moment, wanting to make Alexander hold on to that smile just a little longer.

That smile morphed into mock outrage as the Emperor of Idris gasped dramatically and said “Those accusations are completely unnecessary, Magnus. Frankly, I am appalled that you would even suggest such a thing”, and God, Magnus couldn’t take it. The twinkle in his eye, the smile on his face, the feel of him so close. His heart was beating out of his chest, asking to be let out to play, and for the first time since forever, Magnus listened. He shed away expectations and realities, and focused solely on the voice of his heart as it told him to seize the moment and see if those smiling lips felt as soft as they looked, if Alexander’s scent was even more intoxicating if he moved closer, so he did. He lifted his head and put his lips on Alec’s, and those smiling lips slowly lost their edges. Magnus could feel the man turn to stone, still as a statue, simply breathing the same air as him, and just as he started to think this whole idea had been a colossal mistake, Alexander exhaled sharply, and suddenly his hands were there, tugging Magnus more firmly against him, as his lips took over.

He always envisioned this first kiss, this first foray into intimacy would be a gentle exploration that spoke of hesitance and uncertainty, two men approaching a wide chasm, breaching it in small steps and tiny increments. The reality was much different. It was passion and fire and urges that had been left simmering for too long. Magnus felt like a man unhinged, delving his hands into Alec’s sweaty hair, tugging his head down as their lips locked again and again, mouths opening and closing in a synchronized dance that shouldn’t have felt so familiar. The taste of Alexander was more intoxicating than DuMortian wine, it was sunshine and happiness and a hint of something intangible that was wholly Alec, and Magnus felt drunk on the feel of him. Alec’s hands roved his back, tugging and clutching at him as if afraid he would drift away. Magnus felt like he could, like his whole existence in that moment was tethered to this man’s lips and the way they were making him feel. When breathing became a necessity, Magnus broke away reluctantly, keeping his forehead pressed to Alec’s. He didn’t know when he’d closed his eyes, but he felt afraid to open them, lest he see a hint of regret in Alexander’s eyes. His name was whispered in the gentlest of tones, and Alec’s lips were there again, simply touching his own, sipping and retreating, as if now that they were acquainted, their lips were commencing a slow steady courtship. They met and parted, again and again, as Alec kissed the corner of his mouth, then the other, inviting his lips to play, and Magnus joined him, letting his hands drift from Alec’s soft wet hair into his nape, brushing against the sides of his neck as he let his lips wander, drifting to Alec’s cheek and that one spot on his jaw that he always wanted to taste.

Alec skimmed his lips over Magnus’ cheek, to his throat and the feel of his stubble caressing the sensitive skin brought a moan out of him, and Alec chuckled lightly against his skin, kept on peppering his skin in tiny kisses, adorning his nape in chills that just wouldn’t quit.

Sounds returned to Magnus in tiny increments, like waking from deep slumber, and he finally became aware that they were standing by the pillar of the balcony, in plain sight of anyone who looked up, or came down the hallway behind them, not that Alec seemed to care. He was nuzzling into Magnus’ neck diligently, unaware or simply uncaring about their surroundings, and Magnus was loath to stop him from such a monumental task. Really, it was of the utmost importance. Deliverance!  Who knew his lobe was that sensitive? Not him, that was for sure.

Reluctantly, and with taxing focus, Magnus whispered Alexander’s name, slowly untangling his hands from him and looking up into the dazed eyes he loved so much.

“I think we gave your staff enough of a show for one day, don’t you think?”, he said slowly, his hand somehow finding itself skimming over Alec’s jawline, bristles pricking his fingertips.

Alec just looked at him, pupils dilated, eyes flicking over his features as if he were trying to etch him into memory, and then shook his head slightly, looking around them, then looked back at Magnus, swollen lips curving up in a smile that couldn’t be anything but, well, satisfied.

He grabbed Magnus’ hand from his cheek, pecking his thumb as he did, and then dragged him along back in the direction of his room. Magnus’ mind whirled with the possibilities, and despite him being the one to initiate their kiss, he wasn’t sure he was ready for more, at least not right then, when his heart was still pounding in his chest and his limbs still felt like foreign parts, heavy and clumsy. He dug his heels in a bit to slow Alec down, and it worked. He turned to Magnus with confusion written in his eyes, and Magnus could feel the burn of embarrassment stain his cheeks. He looked everywhere but at him as he stammered “I- I don’t think I’m ready for that”

He was so sure that he’d just ruined whatever it was that had been brewing between them, but he owed it to himself and to his slowly mending heart to take this at a pace he could handle. A gentle hand touched his chin, lifting his face to Alec’s, who wore an expression of complete adoration, erasing Magnus’ wariness without him having to utter a single word.

“I would never dare ask for more than what you so generously gave”, Alec said evenly, then smiled teasingly and said “Besides, I was just going to take a shower while you ate a light lunch the servants are bringing up”. Magnus could feel his cheeks burning profusely. He’d misread the situation completely. He’d be damned to let Alec know that though. He seemed to be way too smug about the whole thing.

“Uh huh, I’m sure you had nothing untoward in mind at all”, he shot back, arching a brow at his Majesty.

Alec laughed outright at that “Well, I didn’t say that, now did I?”, then his expression abruptly turned serious as he gazed at Magnus “Do you regret it?”

Magnus smiled softly, shaking his head. He wouldn’t let Alec mistake his hesitance for regret “I’ve wanted to do that since I met you”

Alec’s expression remained stoic, although his eyes acquired a peculiar sheen. “I’ve wanted to do it for longer”, he replied cryptically, then continued down the hallway, still leading Magnus by the hand. Magnus’ brain still wasn’t firing on all cylinders, because Alec’s reply made no sense to him. He shoved it aside for now, as Alec pushed the door to his room open, telling Magnus to make himself comfortable until someone brought up their lunch.

“When did you get the time to call for lunch anyway?”

Alec chuckled “I may have frightened the life out of some poor girl as I was running up the stairs”

He disappeared into an adjacent room and Magnus could hear the rush of the water as it filled the tub. Alec peeked back at him, smiling slightly “I won’t be long, and after lunch, we have an appointment, so don’t go anywhere, alright?”

Magnus nodded, curiosity peaked, and turned his back on the bath chamber as Alec closed the door, perusing the room now that he was wide awake and in a better state. There were books all over the nightstands, cracked spines and bookmarked pages, stacked up haphazardly as if they were handled often, and Magnus felt like he was slowly and surely building Alexander’s image in his mind, every tidbit he learned about him a puzzle piece that clicked into place in the gaps of his soul, complementing a space he didn’t even know had been missing. Alec didn’t have to worry about him going anywhere. Every time they breathed the same air, Magnus worried he might never want to leave.

* * *

 

After a light lunch comprised of cold cuts, cheese and a warm butter rolls straight out of the oven, Alec and Magnus left for the Imperial archives where Elias was waiting for them at his usual station, surrounded by scrolls and texts and so many notes, Alec often wondered how he was able to preserve his sanity down here, let alone the Empire’s history.

He stood at attention as they approached, sketching a graceful bow for his seventy-five-year-old frame.

“Your Majesty. Your Highness. Is there anything I can help you with today?”, he asked in his rough deep baritone, confusion plain on his face.

Alec had explained his idea to Magnus over lunch. It had occurred to him before the sparring session actually, that maybe they hadn’t found anything in the many texts and notes scribbled in the Imperial journals, because there was nothing to find. He knew better than most that in the game of history, the story passed on was the only truth the world knew, regardless of its accuracy, and he himself had been privy to many council sessions where his father simply disregarded a fact or buried it to serve his own agenda. Why should they trust ink and thought out documentation, when they could go to the ultimate source? It would be the man who held more secrets than a vault, the Imperial scribe that wrote all those nifty journals and annotated texts. If there was one man in Alicante that would know something that could bring down Camille, it would be Elias.

Alec and Magnus took adjacent seats across from the messy desk and Alec explained their query “Elias, you’ve been with the Crown for a long time, have you not? My father and grandfather before him both made use of your ample expertise”

Elias remained unruffled by two royals sitting across from him, and Alec remembered being awed by that stoic nature of his, even as a child. When he wouldn’t be able to keep still and his father would hiss at him to stop fidgeting like a common, he would keep track of Elias’ steady gaze in the face of his father and the rest of the council, as if he was aware that by harboring knowledge, he was at more of an advantage than they would ever be, royal blood or not. The man simply tilted his head obligingly and said “An honor and a privilege, your Majesty”

Alec sat forward, bracing his forearms on his knees and looked the old man straight in the eye, not to intimidate or terrorize, but rather to relay the importance of what he was about to ask “In your time as Imperial scribe, have you ever come across something that could wreck the DuMortian monarchy?”

The slight widening of Elias’ eyes was the only indication of his surprise. Even Magnus was looking at him, as if caught off guard by the bluntness of his delivery. He’d be right, perhaps, but Alec just didn’t have time to play with words, and unlock riddles at the moment. Yesterday, Camille was a nuisance he needed to dispose of to ensure a peaceful reign. Today, she was an enemy and a danger he needed to annihilate for the sake of his sanity, because as long as she remained in power, Magnus would never truly be free of her, and that reality was not one he was willing to entertain. If he managed to slay only one of this man’s demons in his lifetime, he’d consider it well spent.

Elias cleared his throat, then slowly, as if giving Alec ample time to take back his words, said “I beg your pardon, your Majesty?”

Alec smirked at the older man “Come on, Elias. I’m sure that in your lifetime serving Alexander Lightwood II, you took down at least one monarchy! Grandfather was a reckoning across the Empire”

“I- My apologies, your Majesty. I was just surprised by the query. What is it you’re looking for, exactly?”

“Camille Belcourt, the Queen of DuMort. Do you know anything about her reign, or her ancestors that can grant me the power to remove her from the throne?”

Elias paused thoughtfully, no doubt skimming through decades’ worth of information and details. He said meaningfully “I assume you want to do this by the book? With proof and evidence”

It was perhaps a testament to his years of service that he did not question Alec nor did he demand to know his reasons. Despite being born into this world of complete obedience and servitude being a given rather than a luxury, Alec never got used to this, the concept of following someone’s decrees blindly, with no thought to the consequences. He never felt like his actions were in someone else’s power. He always had to think twice and thrice about every aspect of a situation, because most of the time, he was the person being trusted with the consequences. Here, in this moment, Elias trusted him to have a good, or at least, valid reason to want to take Camille’s throne away from her.

If he told him that the Queen had tried to have him murdered, Elias would probably call his decision wise, thought out and calculating, based on strategic reasoning to ensure peace prevailed. Would he understand that the reason was much simpler, and far more complicated than that? Would Elias’ wise knowledgeable mind comprehend the burning urge he felt to seek justice for a man who was taking over his every thought, every heartbeat? Would Elias understand that the emotions that were driving him were bound to the man sitting gracefully to his left? He doubted anyone would. How could they...when they hadn’t felt the breath from Magnus’ lips nor known their softness, when they didn’t get to be the object of his wide-eyed adoring gaze, when their hearts and bodies didn’t burn with passion at every moment they spent together, and with dread every moment they spent apart.

But maybe Elias didn’t need to know. After all, his reasons didn’t matter, only that they had led to this. That was the thing about consequences. Once you reached them, the causes became wholly irrelevant. So, he nodded at the Elder and confirmed “Yes, I need to take away her credibility. Otherwise I’ll have to deal with an outraged country that already has no love lost for mine, and disgruntled rulers worried I’m coming for them next. I need something legitimate and ironclad”

Elias rubbed his beard, eyes drifting from Alec to Magnus and back again, seeming hesitant about something. Alec and Magnus shared a look. It seemed the man had something to share after all.

“I don’t know if it counts, but I may know something”, he finally shared, “but you have to understand that it’s just hearsay. No proof was ever brought to life, which is why your father never acted on it”

Elias exhaled a deep breath and took off his spectacles and blew on the glass, wiping the lenses with his sleeve, and Alec must not have gotten rid of his aggression in the sparring session because he wanted to bash the man’s head in. “Elias”, he said forebodingly.

“Camille may have arranged for her mother’s death”

The sentence hung in the air for a few seconds before Alec and Magnus both leaned forward, talking over each other, bombarding the scribe with questions and exclamations.

“How is this not common knowledge?” Alec demanded.

“And just how did it happen?” Magnus asked, “I thought Queen Maria died of natural causes”

“Where did you get this information in the first place?”

Elias held his hands up in a placating manner “Your Majesty, your Highness. I’ll tell you all that I know, but I feel the need to warn you. It is not much”

So, he did. Apparently, Queen Maria had been a healthy hearty woman, with no medical history of illness or fatigue. Yet, when she turned 48 years old, she started showing signs of fatigue, forgetfulness and her health quickly declined soon after. That alone would not have raised ay flags, except that the Queen’s doctors were very secretive about the whole thing. After merely a couple of weeks of symptoms, Maria had been quarantined to her own rooms, with only her doctors allowed in or out. Camille had taken over immediately, and had all but gotten the people to forget about her mother. The suspicious tale of Camille’s involvement had come from a young maid that was charged with delivering food to the Queen’s rooms three times a day. From what she said, she was the only one allowed to handle the food after it had been plated, and had been strictly forbidden from letting anyone touch, or eat it. In her story, she mentioned that every time she delivered the food to rooms that smelled more and more of sickness and the stench of death, she was quickly ushered out, but not before twice catching a doctor adding droplets of some weird looking liquid to the meal before feeding it to the ill queen.

“That could’ve been medicine”, Magnus countered then, voicing Alec’s very thoughts.

Elias nodded his head obligingly “That is true. But if that’s the case, how would you explain six doctors disappearing entirely after Queen Maria died?”

Alec’s mind was whirling with possibilities “What do you mean disappeared?”

“Exactly that! On official records, they were relocated to different regions of DuMort as their services were no longer required as queen physicians, but reports indicate that none of them ever emerged again”, Elias explained.

Magnus sagged back in his chair and whispered hoarsely “She killed them. Why am I even surprised anymore? Of course, she killed them”

Alec could only guess at what was swirling through his mind right then. His stricken expression was tearing Alec’s heart apart, so he did the best he could under the circumstances. He laid his hand on Magnus’ knee, rubbing gently, and Magnus lifted his head to look at him, the silent message passing clearly through their eyes: “I’m here. You’re not alone” “I know. You’re here with me”

He simply laid his hand on top of Alec’s and kept it there, seeming to settle by the weight of his hand. Alec turned back to Elias, who looked as composed as ever. Honestly, it was disheartening to have a conversation with the man when nothing ruffled his feathers.

“What would Camille’s motive be to kill her own mother?” Alec wondered, failing to understand where lay the missing piece of the puzzle.

“How much do you know about DuMortian ascension, your Majesty?” Elias replied.

“I know that the throne doesn’t go to the firstborn by default, if that’s what you’re asking. The current monarch had to choose an heir amongst his offspring, but Camille was an only child. The throne should be hers in any case”

“No, no. I remember this. When I was a boy and my father would explain to me what my duties as Camille’s betrothed would be, he explained to me that Camille would always be too busy to dally long because she had more to prove than I did as a prince. From what I recall, Maria was keeping with traditions even for her only daughter. She had insisted Camille prove herself as worthy of the DuMort crown, or Maria would appoint the first Commander in her stead. I remember this because my father used to grumble about commoners taking the throne and soiling the noble bloodline or some other backward bull crap”

“Bull crap?” Alec smiled. It seemed teasing Magnus trumped everything else, no matter how dire the circumstances.

“Yes, bull crap. Or is that too profane for your delicate sensibilities?” Magnus smirked at him.

Elias cleared his throat pointedly and said “As his Highness explained, Camille’s place on the throne was not secure. Your father had speculated that she took matters into her own hands before her mother could derail her plans”.

Alec’s disgust with the situation returned swiftly “How could he just let this slide? Are we not supposed to be the protectors of this Empire? How does letting a murder go unresolved fit into that agenda?”

“Your Majesty. We had no proof. We had a teenager’s tale, a teenager that disappeared along with the physicians, I might add. We couldn’t just go about casting blame on a monarch, with nothing to back it up” Elias said apologetically.

Alec felt the need to stew a bit more and age at his father’s indifference. He should’ve looked into it more; he should’ve done more to ensure that monster got what she deserved. Maybe if he had, Magnus wouldn’t have the scars to bear for her cruelty. He was just about to argue that his father had still been in the wrong, when Magnus’ hand tightened on his. He tilted his head at the door, his meaning clear. Alec thanked Elias for his assistance and followed Magnus out of the room.

Magnus didn’t stop until they were out of the Archives and back in the main Palace grounds, then he turned to Alec with excitement dancing in his eyes “This must be it, Alexander. This must be what my father has on her. It has to be”

Alec agreed. If anyone could be close and clever enough to take advantage of the situation, it would be Asmodeus. This was the only thing he could think of that would actually make Camille break off the engagement, and that also meant that proof existed. His elation was quickly overshadowed by another realization though “Magnus, would your father actually give us that proof?”

Magnus’ eyes lost some of their gleam as he thought the question over. “He might, if we make him a good offer for it”, he eventually suggested.

“What kind of offer?” Alec asked warily. He didn’t need to meet Asmodeus to know the man probably loathed him and everything he represented. Any deal he made would come with hefty clauses.

“I’m still working that out. We can go back to your office and brainstorm, but this is great news, right?”

The light in his eyes, the relief that was enveloping his aura right now was the most beautiful Alec had even seen him, and he realized in that moment just how much Camille’s shadow had been weighing on him. The idea that he could remove that weight from Magnus’ shoulders filled him with joy. The feeling was addictive, and Alec had to remind himself that he was moving too fast, that too many variables ruled their situation and that there was so much left unsaid.

“It is”, he agreed, holding himself still to keep from brushing Magnus’ cheek with his hand. He wanted to feel the edges of that smile tickle his fingertips, but it was already mid-afternoon, and if he didn’t present himself to the Council within the next hour, Jia and Lady Herondale might just kill him and run the Empire in his stead.

“However, I have to go see Jia and the council. They must already be looking for me”

Magnus’ eyes widened suddenly “I completely forgot about that. You have to go”.

He basically shoved Alec down the hall, even as his voice took on a playful tone “They probably want to make sure you don’t start brawls during the show tomorrow”

“About that…” Even as he uttered the words, Alec knew he was going to regret them, but he just wanted him near, despite the uncertainty of where this crazy journey would lead, despite their positions and the circumstances that had led them here, he wanted to have this man close, and, he would deny this under death threat, but maybe he wanted people to see Magnus by his side. He wouldn’t go far enough to say he wanted to show him off, but yes okay, he wanted to show him off. 

“How would you feel about attending the show on the balcony?” he asked, grateful that Magnus was still shoving him along, so he wouldn’t have to see his face as the question registered on his face.

“What balcony? I thought even the royal families watched from the grounds?”

“Well, not my family” Alec said, squinting his eyes as if to avoid seeing the impact of his words.

The shoving stopped abruptly, Magnus’ hands leaving his back, hanging slack by his sides as Alec turned to look at him. He swallowed roughly and said “You want me on the balcony…with your family”

Alec knew this was monumental. He knew this was akin to sending out a public statement and inviting the world to scrutinize feelings he still couldn’t name for himself, but after that kiss, he was taking a leap of faith, because if Magnus had the courage to make the first step and kiss him after everything he’s been through, then he deserved someone to claim him, even in the most elemental of ways. So, he nodded his head, clamping his mouth shut to keep from rambling. He wanted Magnus to make the choice because he wanted to, and not because he could feel how nervous he was.

Magnus just stared into his eyes, digging for a truth that Alec didn’t feel like hiding in the first place. He eventually asked, voice scratchy and rough “Why?”

Alec shrugged, giving him the naked truth “Because I want you there”

Magnus looked down at that, and Alec braced himself, promising himself that he’d act natural if Magnus rejected his request, that he wouldn’t let the hurt show on his face. It wasn’t Magnus’ fault if his feelings were moving at warp speed after just one kiss.

Magnus looked back up with the most brilliant smile on his face, and Alec’s breath hitched.

“Then, I’ll be there” Magnus simply said, and Alec couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward swallowing the distance between them, stopping a hair’s breadth away from Magnus’s lips.

“Why did you stop?” Magnus said, breath fanning Alec’s face.

“Because you said you weren’t ready for more, and I don’t want to push my luck”

Magnus answered by closing the distance and pecking Alec’s mouth, once, twice, three times, until Alec’s nervous expression melted and his lips unfurled in a smile. Magnus smiled back and said “Never”, and before Alec could kiss him again, turned him around and continued pushing him down the hallway “No, if you keep that up, we’re going to be late, and I apparently need to have some serious wardrobe discussions with my valet. After all, I’m sitting on the balcony tomorrow. I wouldn’t want to embarrass the Emperor”.

“Like that’s ever a possibility!”

“Buttering me up isn’t going to work, Alexander”

“Come on, Magnus”

“No”

“I’m not even late yet”

“And you won’t be. Keep going!”. They continued bickering all the way to his room.

* * *

 

Magnus knocked on the door, and waited, then knocked again when no footfalls sounded on the other side. It was late afternoon. Raphael wasn’t really known for doing more than napping at this time, if he could help it. He raised his hand to try again, when he heard a faint “Just a second”.

A minute later, a disheveled looking Simon opened the door, apologizing profusely for the delay while his eyes fidgeted everywhere. His face was crimson red, and Magnus felt certain that the valet was hiding something, badly from the looks of it.

Magnus walked in, heading straight for the sitting area to wait for Raphael, while Simon stammered something about letting Raphael know he was there, and disappeared through the doorway. Shortly after, a smiling Raphael joined Magnus, and well, Magnus had to pinch himself to make sure he was still alive, because even in his dreams, he wouldn’t dream of a smiling Raphael. His subconscious would bulk against the idea. Magnus looked him over more accurately, and Raphael seemed to realize that his face was doing something weird because his blank façade clicked into place in the span of a second. But Magnus wasn’t easily misled. After all, he’d already seen the soft dreamy smile, and suddenly, Simon’s chaotic state made perfect sense. He couldn’t suppress his amusement. He smirked at his friend, leaning back in his seat.

“Honestly, Raphael, I am deeply offended that I have to show up unannounced to know about your relationships. I thought we were friends”. He affected his most obnoxious pout.

Raphael simply rolled his eyes, and replied as evenly as ever “Mind your business, Magnus. Plus, there is nothing to tell”

He busied himself tinkering with the tea tray Magnus hadn’t even realized had been served. What was with Idrisians and efficiency? He was starting to consider the risks of stealing away a few servants for his personal service. _That would be kidnapping and slavery, Magnus_. His conscience piped up. Great, he was surrounded by spoilsports!

“Oh? I’m supposed to believe your relaxed sunny disposition is all for my benefit? Like I’d be so lucky”

“Well, you do tend to ruin whatever good mood I have rather quickly, as it is, so how about you lay off my case?”

“But you finally _have_ a case! Let me rejoice in this momentous occasion. I, Magnus Bane of Edom, finally have something I can tease you, Raphael Santiago of DuMort, about. Odes should be written! Scratch that, limericks”

Raphael was holding the tea pot in his hand, staring at him patiently, and Magnus couldn’t decide if his friend was waiting him out, or considering throwing the steaming pot at his head. He raised his hands in surrender and sighed “Since you insist on being a buzzkill, I’ll stop. But I would like the record to show that I’m happy for you. That guy looks like he could really cool down your cheerful personality”. He couldn’t even get the words out, he was laughing so hard.

Raphael gave his eyes another long stretch and mumbled “You don’t even know what’s going on. You know I’m not all about those vices of the flesh”. His words were stilted and uncomfortable as he poured them each a cup of tea.

“Whose fault is that?” Magnus teased, before smiling softly at his friend “You know that’s not what matters when it comes to matters of the heart”, he shrugged casually and continued “Plus, I don’t need to know how serious it is to know you need some cheer in your life, and Simon looks like he’s just the man for the job”

Raphael had never been what one would call a cheerful fellow, but Magnus had noticed a definite change in him ever since Rosa had passed away. He couldn’t really pinpoint the exact reason for it. It could be her death, or the state of mind he needed to adopt to get to his current position, or maybe even the effect his own ordeal had had on his dear friend, which reminded him of the reason he’d stopped by in the first place.

Over tea and sandwiches, he explained what the scribe had revealed about Camille’s hand in her mother’s murder. He knew his friend had nothing to do with it, but it was still satisfying to see how distressed and disgusted he was by what Magnus was relaying.

“Queen Maria was not a good person, but she didn’t deserve to be murdered by her own daughter. I swear to you, Magnus. I knew nothing of this”, Raphael began, and Magnus cut him off, shaking his head adamantly “You don’t have to tell me this, Raphael. I know you well enough to know that. I was just wondering if you’ve ever heard something you’d dismissed. A rumor, a wild tale, anything that can help us bring her down”

“I’m sorry, Magnus, but no. I genuinely thought the doctors were relocated, and I was too busy working for my promotion, so I just kept my head down, mostly”, Raphael said, chagrined.

A throat clearing made them both look up to where Simon stood in the doorway to Raphael’s bedroom, fidgeting, his mouth opening and closing as if he were debating what to say.

Raphael could deny and play coy all he wanted, but the way his gaze softened when it fell upon the young man said more than words could explain. In a gentle tone Magnus had never heard his lifelong friend use, Raphael asked “What is it, Simon?”

Simon rubbed the back of his neck and replied sheepishly “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard you speaking, and I… Are you speaking about Rebecca?”

Magnus could feel his brows notch in confusion as he repeated “Rebecca?”

Simon fidgeted as he swallowed roughly and said “Rebecca Lewis? The girl that made those allegations against Queen Camille?”

Magnus and Raphael shared an astonished glance, even as Magnus replied “I don’t really know her name, but I assume not many people were going about accusing Camille of murder, so I guess”

Raphael beaconed Simon over next to him, and waited him out as he took his time getting his thoughts in order, then he began, in a hoarse anguish filled voice “Rebecca was my older sister. When she was selected to serve in the Queen’s quarters, my mother was overjoyed. She was hardworking, and honest. I think that’s important for you to know. She was honest to a fault. A few weeks into her new position, Queen Maria fell ill, and my sister was tasked with delivering her food personally. All of a sudden, she couldn’t talk about what was happening, and every time my mother would ask her how the queen was faring, she’d clam up and change the subject. At the time, we assumed it was just painful to talk about, but after… after, we wondered”

Simon got choked up at that, and seemed on the verge of breaking down. Raphael grabbed his hand and gently told him “It’s alright. You don’t have to”

Simon shook his head though, clearing his throat again and sitting up straight “No, if this can help bring justice to her memory, then I want to help”. He looked back at Magnus and continued “During the months of the Queen’s illness, Becky got worse and worse. She stopped being the happy person I knew and became more of a shell of her former self. It was only on the day the Palace squires roamed the city to announce that Queen Maria was gone that my sister went insane. She started crying hysterically and just yelling that it was her fault, shouting that she should’ve said something sooner, that she shouldn’t have stood by and let it happen. From what she explained, the queen fell ill in the first place due to poison laced food that she had to deliver. Small doses to slowly weaken the monarch, enough for the people to assume natural causes were at fault. Rebecca became reckless after Queen Maria died, telling her story to anyone who’ll listen, warning them that Camille was a witch who’d had her own mother murdered for the throne”

Simon’s eyes were shimmering with tears as he whispered “It took one week. One week for my sister to disappear off the face of the Earth, like she never existed in the first place. My mother forbade me to contest or look for her. She said that the only way to survive was to keep our heads down, and do our jobs like the servants we were. Nobody would miss us, or care, so we might as well mourn her in silence”

Magnus’s heart hurt. It hurt for Simon and his sister, it hurt for their poor defeated mother, and it even hurt for himself. How could someone wreak so much destruction in the world and go about unscathed for so long? In her strife for power, Camille had decimated people, uncaring for anything but her own nefarious interests. However, her time was winding down, because for once in her miserable life, she had undertaken an endeavor that she couldn’t hope to win. She’d come after someone with more power than she ever hoped to amass, and Magnus was going to delight and revel in her untimely fall from grace.

There was nothing he could say to Simon to ease his grief, but he could do his best to ensure that his sister’s tragedy wasn’t for naught. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Simon. I know nothing I can say or do will change it, but we’ll make Camille pay for everything. Mark my words!”

Simon looked relieved at the words. “I don’t know what you need to accomplish that, but I have some journals of Becky’s, where she detailed what she saw and what she heard during that time. I’m sure I can find them for you”

Magnus wanted to do cartwheels in the middle of the room, because that would be leaps and bounds better than what they had now. He smiled gratefully at the young man. He was now happier for Raphael. He’d found himself a good man, and that’s all he’d ever wanted for his friend.

From the looks Raphael was stealing at Simon, he wanted to reassure himself that he was okay, so Magnus took the hint and excused himself. His friend was gathering his lover in his arms before the door had fully closed after him, and Magus found himself smiling absently.

It was one of the wonders of the world that love and hope could be born in the midst of tragedy, like a flower blooming through the cracks of cobblestones, like rays of sunlight bursting through clouds. A few days ago, this notion would have seemed frivolous and silly to him. That’s because a few days ago, the cobblestones of his heart had been barren, the clouds of his soul undisturbed.

Now… now Magnus knew what it felt like to have his heart beat to the rhythm of something other than the echo of emptiness inside him. He knew that he could experience moments of joy without feeling like he didn’t deserve them, and that in itself, will never cease to be one of the wonders of the world to him.

* * *

 

Alec hated stuffy dinner affairs. He gave up a lot in his life for the sake of being a public figure of authority, but giving up the luxury to eat as voraciously as he pleased was one sacrifice that he would always bitter about. It wasn’t his fault that he loved food so much and wanted to enjoy it without people gawking at him. It was a normal request, so when his council had insisted that he attend another dinner banquet, he’d been ready to refuse just for the sake of his sanity. However, Jia had went on and on about his duties, and how the rest of rulers will think he’s snubbing him in favor of one particular person, and how that will cause discord, so he’d compromised.

He’d be a hypocrite to say she was wrong. It was certainly not his intention to snub the rest of the visiting dignitaries out of malice, but he only wanted to spend time with one. One beautiful magical man that had taken over his soul. That same man was the only reason this dinner was even remotely enjoyable. He didn’t know whose intricate planning it was, but from the big twin smiles Maia and Isabelle were giving him, he could guess it was their machinations that made Magnus’ place card sit next to his tonight.

The man in question was currently having a conversation with Meliorn, who sat on his right, and Alec was content just to hear the tinkle of his laugh as Meliorn regaled him of tales about the Fairie court and how drunk everyone had gotten at his mother’s birthday feast.

Meliorn leaned over to include him in the conversation “I distinctly remember the general getting drunk and flirting with a plant. Do you recall that?”

Alec burst out laughing because he’d actually forgotten about that. Jace was the worst drunk he knew. You’d think a war general would be prone to violence when drunk, but his brother was a different breed. He just got excessively flirty, well flirtier than usual, to the point of ridicule. He’d ended up chatting casually with a tall plant because he found its bark and leaves to resemble a girl’s face. Isabelle had put random plants in his room for weeks after that, never letting him live the embarrassment down.

Dinner progressed seamlessly, and Alec started to unwind and relax as chatter and live music filled the dining Hall. Tables were arranged in a long U shape where he occupied the very center. Apparently, that way, the guests could all interact without feeling left out. Drinks flowed and laughter ran loose, people discussing the show tomorrow and how excited they were to see the different battalions perform their routines. Alec just listened to the chatter, thinking that maybe this wasn’t so bad. Maybe he’d been dreading these kinds of affairs for nothing. A servant came by to replace his drink that was running low, and he looked at Magnus’ glass to find it still full. He was about to comment on it when the girl lifted the cup from the table, and bent down close to Magnus and said “I’m sorry for that one, I’ll get you a glass of wine”

Magnus just smiled at the girl and replied “Thank you, Lucy. A dark red would be fantastic. And do give Leo my compliments. The meal was exquisite”

The girl lit up at her name, as if Magnus remembering it was a gift she hadn’t been expecting. She curtsied slightly and said “Coming right up, your Highness, and I’ll be sure to. I’m certain he’ll be overjoyed”

The girl skittered away to gather other glasses, and Alec leaned back and stared at Magnus as amusement filled him. Magnus just looked back at him sheepishly and said “What?”

“Are you charming away my household, Magnus?”

The apples of his cheeks went bright red as he ducked his head to hide his embarrassed smile, and Alec wanted to kiss him again. In fact, the thought had scarcely left his mind. It didn’t seem to matter where they were or what they were doing, he wanted to feel the taste of those lips on his again. It appeared that giving himself any kind of leeway had opened the flood on a host of feelings he had been keeping away, because now that he knew what it felt like to be the object of Magnus’ attraction, now that he knew that Magnus harbored at least an iota of the hurricane of passion that raged within him, his fears and worries were becoming more and more irrelevant.

Magnus cleared his throat “I may have ventured into the kitchens last night after we parted. I was hungry”, he added bashfully.

Alec immediately felt chastised “That’s my fault. I should’ve called for dinner when we were working, or at the very least made sure you had some after”

Magnus chuckled quietly “You don’t have to take care of me, Alexander. I managed just fine”

He smiled tenderly, and Alec’s heart ached. It seemed to be doing that quite a lot around Magnus, an atrophied muscle finally regaining its strength. His mouth ran with the words before he could check them “What if I want to? Take care of you, that is”

“Hmm…” Magnus seemed to think it over, “Now, what would that entail exactly?”

“Whatever you wanted it to”

Magnus looked away, as if considering the question, then turned to him, brow arched, lips tilted up in a beguiling smirk “Foot rubs?”

Alec burst out laughing, surprised by the query, but willing to play along as long as that flame of merriment danced in Magnus’ eyes “If you want”

“Bubble baths?”

“I guess”

“Candle lit dinners?”

Alec looked around them, motioning and Magnus shook his head, even as he seemed to blush even more “You know what I mean”

Alec couldn’t help the flutter of his heart, nor could he stop the butterflies that were taking flight in his stomach. It seemed that his entire body was conspiring against him as it experienced some sort of malfunction caused by the torrent of emotions Magnus inspired.

He couldn’t seem to get words out, so he simply nodded at Magnus, smiling slightly.

Magnus’ answering smile was everything, but the flirt wasn’t done with his list because he asked “Massages?”

Alec could feel his breath catch, his heart fluttering for other reasons, heat suffusing his body as he envisioned running his hands over Magnus, fingertips gliding over valleys of skin and planes of fine hairs, knuckles digging into firm muscles and sounds of pleasure that had little to do with relaxation.

His body responded accordingly, heating and tensing, and something must’ve flashed in his eyes, because Magnus’ eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t look frightened or apprehensive. On the contrary, he looked intrigued.

Alec’s voice came out scratchy and hoarse “That can definitely be arranged”

Magnus ducked his head, biting his lip, and Alec had half a mind to bring his thumb to Magnus’ chin and release it. Luckily, Meliorn asked Magnus something right then, breaking the spell that was keeping the two of them in a bubble at the dinner table.

Alec took advantage of the momentary reprieve to do a sweep around the table and see what damage they’d done with that little scene. It appeared that people were too busy reveling in their own entertainment to pay them any attention, because almost nobody was even looking in their direction. It seemed too good to be true, but Alec wasn’t going to question his luck. He didn’t have that much of it in the first place.

Just as he was about to turn back to join Magnus and Meliorn’s conversation, his gaze caught on Azazel’s, who was already staring at them with a knowing smug smile on his face. Alec knew the guy had a predisposed condition of smug, but it seemed exaggerated even for him. Alec tilted his head down in a gesture of acknowledgement, and Azazel’s smirk widened into a feral smile. He raised his glass in Alec’s direction in return, then turned to the woman on his left, engaging her in conversation. The whole thing seemed inexplicably weird, but maybe Azazel had noticed how close he and Magnus had gotten during their conversation and was drawing his own conclusions about the nature of their relationship, which, admittedly, wouldn’t be far off from the truth. As of this morning, Alec could no longer say that Magnus was just a friend. Lines were not only blurred, they seemed obliterated, and frankly, he should be more worried about that than he actually was. As it was, he could only feel Magnus around him tonight, and that was keeping him plenty occupied.

* * *

 

Magnus was drunk. He wished he could say it was on the wine, but unfortunately, his inebriated state had little to do with a drink and plenty to do with the man sitting on his left. He was drunk on the rush of his blood running through his veins. He was drunk on the sputtering beat of his own heart. He was drunk on the buzz of his skin and the chafing of his clothes. He was quite simply drunk on life, and it was mostly due to Alexander. He didn’t understand the mechanics of it, but all Magnus knew was that around Alec, colors seemed brighter and voices sounded louder somehow, as if his senses realized they needed to make more of an effort to encompass all of him.

He was sure he was being a terrible conversation partner to Meliorn, because he was only half listening, as every part of his body strained towards the area where his knee was touching Alec’s. It was nothing but a small patch, but his body seemed centered around it, straining and craving more. More contact. More heat and definitely less clothing.

Dinner had been cleared a while ago, and everyone seemed too comfortable to retire for the night. Drinks flowed and music played. Heads nodded along to the bard and cups were raised in celebration. Magnus realized that while some of these people were here simply to cozy up to the future Emperor and win his favor, Alec also had it wrong. Most of the guests here were genuinely rejoiced to see him take the throne. They believed in the difference he could make as a leader, and despite having no claim over him, Magnus couldn’t help but feel pride for the noble gentle soul that Alexander was.

A couple hours passed in revelry, and finally, the tables started to clear as royal families took to their beds for the night, drowsy from too many cups or simply led away by their companions before they embarrassed themselves in their state of drunkenness. Alec’s siblings had also left a while ago, Isabelle and Maia basically skipping to their room in a haste that was poignantly obvious, and Magnus had cracked up at Alec’s expression of abject horror and brotherly disgust. Jace had also left, sober and annoyed by everyone’s general state of _laissez-faire_. Magnus had not followed his lead however. He was feeling the warm buzz of his third glass of wine, not in any way drunk, but tipsy enough to appreciate the world through googly eyes.

Alexander’s nearness was messing with his synapses because all he wanted was to lay his head on that wide shoulder, nuzzle into his neck and revel in the heat that was emanating from his body, which was his cue to retreat. He need not embarrass himself in front of the gentry of the Empire, and he definitely need not bite off more than he could chew when it came to Alexander.

He tuned back into Meliorn’s conversation just in time for the prince to excuse himself, which was the perfect segue for Magnus to do the same. He turned to Alec, already rising from his seat, and Alec startled, whispering “Are you leaving already?”

How someone so big and tough could pull off a pout and still look adorable was beyond Magnus, but there he was, looking at him with those doe eyes, pleading with him to stay. He cleared his throat and whispered back “I’m a bit drowsy, so I think I’ll call it a night”

Alec’s pout became more pronounced, and Magnus wanted nothing more than to kiss it off his face, sip from those lush lips that had driven him crazy long before he’d even known the taste of them. That was his cue to scram, because his happy go lucky brain was figuring out different avenues by which he could go through with a small kiss regardless of the audience watching them, and he doubted Alexander would appreciate being attacked at a dinner banquet in his honor.

He rose completely from the table, and Alec’s hand twitched where it lay on the table, like he had been about to hold on to him and urge him to stay. Magnus’ heart pitter-pattered like crazy, even as he forced himself to keep going. He smiled tenderly at Alexander and asked “Are you staying long?”

Alexander looked around the U-shaped table and sighed “Maybe another hour. At least until the crowd thins out more”. He was still pouting like a disgruntled child, and Magnus’ hand took over and he reached up and squeezed Alec’s shoulder, teasing “Hang in there. Who knew you were such a grinch?”

Alec rolled his eyes, and Magnus chuckled “You are not proving me wrong by rolling your eyes, Alexander”

“I wasn’t trying to. I _am_ a grinch”

Magnus laughed outright at that “Well, self-awareness is the first step to fix the problem, I suppose”

He ignored the glare aimed his way and gave his shoulder one more squeeze in solidarity before uttering a quick “Goodnight, Alexander” and stepping away from the table.

He made his way to the door, nodding his head at various people who raised their glasses in acknowledgement or shouted his name in intoxicated greeting. He stepped into the empty hall and directed himself toward his room, when a cold amused voice sounded to his right “It appears I underestimated you, Bane”

Magnus was startled by the abrupt appearance of King Azazel, who was half obscured in the alcove adjacent to the dining Hall awning. He was half hidden in the shadows, hands crossed over his wide chest, condescending smirk ever in place.

Magnus could feel the dread gathering within him, stomach twisting in wariness. “What are you on about, Azazel?”

Azazel’s smirk widened, and he leaned against the wall, making himself comfortable “Is that how you’re going to play it? Fine, I’ll spell it out for you”, he leaned forward and snarled in his face “If you think getting into Lightwood’s good graces...” he paused suggestively and gave him a sweeping glance, mouth tilting up in disdain “or pants, is going to get you out of our deal, then think again”

Magnus’ breath hitched, frame tensing as he absorbed the threat. He shelved the comment Azazel had made about Alec until he was alone, and focused on the conniving man in front of him. Azazel seemed aware he had his complete attention because he went on “I wonder if your precious emperor would still look at you like you hung the moon if he knew the real reason you were in Alicante”

He pushed off the wall, and walked around Magnus, circling him like a shark scenting blood in the water “Does he know, Bane, that while he’s spending all his time making starry eyes at you, you’re stabbing him in the back and trying to usurp his power? Or did you think that if you beat me to the punch and won his approval, I wouldn’t have the heart to act on my promise?”

Magnus’ heart was pounding in his chest, but he kept silent, terrified that anything he said would push him deeper into the hole he had dug for himself. He wooed the day he agreed to his father’s nefarious plans. Now, he was reaping the consequences of a stupid guilt-ridden decision that he hadn’t even acted on, but Azazel didn’t care about his change of heart. Azazel wanted wildfire, and Magnus doubted talk of epiphanies and soul searching would persuade him otherwise.

His first reflex was to barter and play softball, convince him that plans were taking longer than necessary and that he had nothing to worry about, keep the peace, maintain the status quo; but that Magnus had been an unfeeling coward, and if this visit had taught him anything, aside from his affinity for hazel eyes and lush pouty lips, it was that he had more to give than he gave himself credit for, so he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin, putting on the blank mask of carelessness he’d seen his father wear his entire life. “Honestly, Azazel? Don’t you grow tired on the sound of your own voice?”

Azazel, who was clearly not expecting snark reared back, but recovered quickly, his expression turning ugly “I want my ammunition, Bane”

“And if you go to Lightwood, how exactly does that help your cause?” Magnus arched his brow, giving him his most ambitious interpretation of disappointment.

Azazel’s eyes shifted, clearly not expecting to be called out. Magnus chuckled then shook his head “Now now, Azazel. You know better than to threaten a Bane. Truth of the matter is, you need my complete cooperation, and while going to the Emperor may grant you some points, it will also ensure you never lay your hands on a single ounce of wildfire, so let’s cut the crap, shall we?”

The more he talked, the more he felt like he was waking from a deep slumber, his hollow parts filling with fresh air and a renewed palpable wish to breathe. He wished he could say that it was the old him finding its way back, but this feeling, this unnamable strength that was suffusing him didn’t feel like any Magnus he’d ever been. It was jaded and rough around the edges, but it was also alive and healing, and it was the best he could do, but it was enough. Enough to step forward and get into Azazel’s face. He’d lost his obnoxious smirk by now, looking at Magnus like a new person, one who commanded respect and Magnus would be lying if he said that didn’t bolster his next words even more “Listen to me and listen well. The deal is off. You are not getting any wildfire out of me, at least not in an underhanded manner. You will not threaten me, and you will forget our conversation ever happened, because if you think you have a trump card in your hand, don’t forget that I have a whole deck, or did you already forget about the slave trade?”

Azazel’s face went white as a sheet, glaringly pale even in the candlelight, and Magnus chuckled. Asmodeus was a cruel man perhaps, but he had always been an extremely smart one. Camille was not the only royal figure his father had kept in his thrall by the means of some dark twisted secret. He tried his best to stay out of his father’s dirty blackmail schemes, but he was glad to have had the information right then. Azazel was a horrible man, with dirty hands that waded into every nefarious profession, but making slave trading deals with Forsakens could probably sit at the top of that list.

Magnus tilted his head, waiting for some reaction, and Azazel swallowed roughly, eyes spitting hatred. When the silence stretched, Magnus said, voice stronger than he’d heard it in a long time “Do we have a deal, your majesty?”

Azazel looked away from Magnus, a vicious hateful snarl taking over his face, but he remained mulishly silent. He eventually nodded woodenly, still unwilling to look Magnus in the eye, not that he cared. He’d gotten what he wanted, and for tonight, that was more than enough.

He turned and walked away, and he couldn’t help but feel like he was leaving more than just Azazel standing in that shaded alcove.

* * *

 

Alec walked the long corridor, listening to the giggles and laughs of drunk people, echoes that spanned the walls around him, and he thought of the last time the Palace had felt this jovial. It was a tragedy that he couldn’t begin to remember. Misery seemed to be their family’s lot in life, and for years, they had worn the effect of it like a well-worn cloak, comfortable and familiar, and in a way, it was all they knew. It was all they had known for a long time now.

He realized he didn’t mind the change. It was definitely still eerie to feel the urge to smile instead of frown, but he was slowly getting the hang of it, especially this week, and he had an inkling as to why.

He reached his bedroom, feeling the smile that was stretched across his face, and no matter how hard he tried, there seemed to be no hope of erasing it. He reached for the door knob, and abruptly stopped, because as much as Steven railed at him for thinking he was invincible and reckless with his safety, Alec actually did care whether he remained alive. He had in place little tricks he’d picked up at the Institute, door jams that were set in a combination only he was privy to, and he wasn’t completely sober, but he was aware enough to know that his door had been tampered with.

His blood started pumping hard, his brain whirring with different scenarios. Could Camille have been stupid enough to try again so soon after her first failed attempt? Or was it some other disgruntled royal taking their chances at the throne? Alec reached into his trousers, unfastening the secret compartment within his pockets where he always had a switchblade hidden. He palmed the handle, put his thumb on the release button and slowly turned the knob, listening for any sudden noises that would alert him to an imminent attack.

His door opened slowly, hinges squeaking. He saw the lit candles first, and his heart pounded harder, the confirmation of an intruder heightening his awareness, even as his limbs unfurled from their stiffness, years’ worth of training settling him into a natural stance, ready for action. He let the door release to fully open, refraining from taking any step forward. The door opened fully showcasing an empty room, save for the figure lying on his bed, sleeping soundly, little muffled snorts reaching him from his position by the door.

Alec’s breath whooshed out of him as he slowly reoriented himself, clearing the haze of danger away and hesitantly stepping into the room. He slowly closed the door after him, and approached the bed on silent steps, heart thudding in his ribcage at the beautiful sight of Magnus asleep in his bed, shadows fanning those high cheekbones, chest peacefully rising and falling.

He didn’t understand why Magnus was there in the first place but something about coming in and finding him there felt awfully a lot like coming home, and Alec knew that he was setting himself up for heartbreak, but he couldn’t help imagining what that would be like, to go to bed every night and be welcomed by this sight, to wake up every morning and let his eyes find Magnus’ first thing, with nothing but a hair’s breadth of pillow space between them. He would probably become the world’s laziest emperor, but he would reckon he’d also be the world’s happiest one.

For some reason, he couldn’t decide what to do with himself. Magnus looked too peaceful to disturb, but slipping into bed next to him also felt presumptuous and intruding. He eventually took a seat on the vanity stool next to the bed, elbows propped on his knees, and simply soaked in the ease of the moment. His slight buzz had disappeared promptly in the face of the adrenaline rush he’d experienced, and all that remained was a clear head that knew one irrefutable truth. Alec was falling. He hadn’t planned on it, and frankly didn’t know what to do about it, considering they each had duties that took them to separate parts of the Empire, but he was. Swiftly and surely, and by the Angel, a few days didn’t seem like nearly enough time to absorb an emotion so significant, but there he was, his soul sighing at the feel of Magnus, every piece of the puzzle that was his heart falling slowly int place. Well, except for one, he realized as he grazed his thumb over his leather band.

It frustrated him to no end that his final bond just wouldn’t snap into place. He needed the reassurance that he wasn’t just floundering. He needed some sign from the universe that he wasn’t mucking up everything by one-sided feelings that wouldn’t go anywhere. He must’ve dived too deep into his own head because he didn’t even see Magnus open his eyes until his groggy, sleep hewn voice echoed in the silent chamber “If you think any harder, you’re going to pull a muscle”

Alec’s head lifted to see Magnus’ sleepy eyes smiling at him in the candle light, and he couldn’t help the answering smile his lips spread into. He moved from his seat into the bed, settling on the edge by Magnus’ hip, resting his hand on the other side of him, effectively caging him in.

“Did I wake you?”

Magnus shook his head, yawning slightly “No, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I was going to my room when I decided I didn’t want to be anywhere else tonight. I was waiting for you, but I guess the wine made me drowsy”

He looked so beautiful, his lips pouting sleepily and Alec finally gave in to the urge he’d had all day. He leaned forward and pecked Magnus’ lips, just once. A hand reached up to his nape, holding his head in place as Magnus took over, turning what was supposed to be a chaste kiss into something entirely different.

Their lips met passionately, ravenous for more contact, clinging as Alec raked his teeth across Magnus’s bottom lip, dragging it. Magnus moaned at the motion, and pulled Alec’s head closer to him, tangling their tongues together, as they slipped into a world that was entirely of their own making.

Alec had thought that the kiss this morning had been a fluke, that the feeling of electricity coursing through his frame had been the result of the adrenaline and the novelty of kissing someone you’d longed for so long, but as their lips melded over and over, reveling in that inexplicable familiarity, he realized that this feeling was wholly about the man he was kissing. He realized that no matter how many times they did this, kissing Magnus would always feel like it was the first time, a hunger that would never be sated.

There was a world of words that Alec couldn’t speak, a sea of feelings he wasn’t sure he was ready to share, so he let his kiss take the lead. Magnus’ hands reached up to his vest, unbuttoning and urging him to help him along, and Alec held his hands slightly, whispering against him “Magnus, are you sure?”

Magnus shushed his quietly “I just want to feel your skin, nothing more”. His eyes were pleading with Alec’s, and Alec wanted to reassure him that it was wholly unnecessary, that there was nothing he wouldn’t do to please him. He took over the buttons Magnus was still struggling with, took off his vest, then quickly got rid of his shirt, nodding his head at Magnus “I want to feel you too”

Magnus grinned at him devilishly and sat up, quickly divesting of his shirt, until nothing but his skin gleamed in the light. They met again, in a tangle of hands and lips as they explored this little part of themselves they had barren to each other. It shouldn’t have felt so familiar. As Alec’s hands coursed over Magnus, he couldn’t help repeating the sentiment again and again. It should have felt awkward and clumsy and new, and in a way it did, but it was also warm and ancient and nostalgic. He let himself revel in the cacophony of emotion, whispering against Magnus’ lips, words that barely revealed all the things his heart couldn’t brave.

“You taste like wine” _You taste like everything I’ve ever wanted._

“Your skin is so warm” _You feel like the sun, and I’m crashing into you._

“You feel so good” _You feel like home._

They stayed like that for hours, rewriting passion in a way that fit them, and when the haze of it no longer held them so completely in its thrall, they lay in each other’s arms, telling each other of the men they had been and the men they were, even as their hearts melded into each other, slowly and irrevocably crafting the men they would become.

* * *

 

Getting dressed was a task that usually took Magnus ten to twenty minutes at most, and that was with all the frills and painstaking care his valet usually took into polishing his appearance. But on a day where he would have to sit with the Lightwood family for the whole of Idris to see, every outfit he packed looked somehow lacking, so he changed his top once because it looked too fussy, then he changed his trousers because they didn’t match his top, then the new trousers looked better with another shirt, and on and on it went until his entire luggage was lying in disarray around him and his valet looked like he’d run a marathon.

He didn’t know why he was so nervous. It wasn’t not like he was a commoner who wasn’t used to royal events or people gawking at him, but this felt different. This felt like a declaration that was going to change the course of his life. He wanted to feel ready, and his outfit was going to be the only armor he was allowed to wear, so he fussed and nitpicked every garment until his poor frazzled valet finally put his foot down and shoved him out the door in black trousers, a black shirt embroidered in silver at the collar and sleeves, and a royal blue studded jacket that reached his knees. His hair was teased to perfection and his eyes were rimmed in black and blue. It would have to do.

He skipped down the corridor until he got to Raphael’s door and knocked in a melodic beat. It was Clarissa that opened the door, clad in a green dress that came to her ankles, along with brown leather sandals. The look was simple and understated, fit for an attendant, even if she was only posing as one. She performed a perfect curtsey and let him in “Commander Santiago is just about ready, your Highness. May I offer you some refreshments while you wait?”

Magnus couldn’t help but snort at her meek act. If he hadn’t seen her make Alexander bleed, he’d be willing to believe it. “No need. I’ll just wait in the living room” he waved his hand toward it, already moving in that direction.

It took no more than five minutes for Raphael to step out of his bedroom, looking as severe as always in his black attire of doom. Simon trailed behind him.

“It’s summer, Raphael. Must you really sweat your body weight in that wool cape?” Magnus grumbled at his friend, even as he looked beyond him at Simon “Is this your way of ensuring nobody looks at him twice, Simon?” he quipped, “Make him a sweaty mess that will horrify everyone in a mile radius?”

Simon blushed prettily and started stammering, while Raphael just rolled his eyes “I have a cold disposition. I don’t mind my clothes. Leave him alone”. He shoved Magnus playfully toward the door.

“Are you ready to go watch some soldiers kneel before your Emperor?”, Raphael said as they walked towards the square the event was held at.

Magnus arched a brow “Why is he my Emperor, though?” Not that he minded the title. He would be loath to admit that thought had crossed his mind entirely too many times in the course of the last two days. Hell, it had been the first thing he’d thought of when he’d woken up in Alec’s bed that morning, his eyes feasting themselves on the sight of a bed headed sleeping Alexander. His first thought had been “You belong with me”. It had been a disturbingly clear message from his heart, even as his brain argued logically that it was way too early to be making claims. He couldn’t help but feel like his heart had already been claimed however, in every kiss and every candlelit whisper across his skin, in every story and every smile Alexander had bestowed upon him in the dim light of dawn, as his eyes clung to Magnus, struggling to remain awake just a bit longer and stay in the moment of wonder and bliss they’d created.

Raphael’s sarcastic guffaw interrupted his musings “Why is he my emperor, he says as he gets moon eyed and dreamy. I thought I would have to throw a pitcher of water over the two of you yesterday at that dinner table. The people _around_ you were sweating, Magnus”

Magnus rolled his eyes at his friend “You’re being a pain. We weren’t anything but respectfully polite last night”

“Is that what we’re calling it these days, then?”

Magnus just gave him a reproaching glare that had absolutely no effect on his stoic friend. Raphael asked him about his seat during the ceremony and Magnus explained Alec’s request. Raphael stopped cold in the middle of the hall. He looked at Magnus steadily and said “He asked you to sit with his family?” Magnus nodded diligently.

“In front of the whole royal court of the Empire?”, Magnus nodded at again even as he rolled his eyes at Raphael’s antics. Honestly, how anyone thought he was the more dramatic part of their duo was beyond him.

Raphael’s eyes thinned as he crossed his arms over his barrel chest, looking ridiculous in that wool cape “Do I need to have a talk with the Emperor about his intentions towards you?”

Magnus rolled his eyes harder, and shoved him ahead, even as his heart expanded in his chest. One of the things he’ll always be grateful for was having Raphael in his corner. He was the best disgruntled cheerleader one could have, and the fiercest defender Magnus never had to ask for.

They parted ways and Magnus made for the flight of stairs that would lead him to the balcony on the second floor. As he took the first step, Raphael called out to him. He turned his head to find his old friend looking uncharacteristically fidgety. Raphael put his hands in the pockets of his pants and cleared his throat “I know I give you crap sometimes, but I can see that you’ve been happier since you got here. I know I’m not the world’s most emotive person, but if he makes you happy, that’s all I want. You know that, right?”

Magnus’ throat closed up, because he knew how hard it must’ve been for Raphael to get those words out. His friend showed he cared in different ways, and the fact that he’d made the effort to spell the sentiment out to Magnus just because he thought he needed to hear it, was the greatest gift he could’ve given him. He nodded shakily and Raphael seemed to realize that talking was a hard task at the moment, because he simply gave him his minimalistic version of a smile and walked towards the square.

Magnus stepped onto the balcony and all talk quieted down. The silence was deafening. In its wake, the soles of his boots were the only noise. He refused to let the nerves get the best of him. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. He’d been invited, and he’ll be damned if he let anyone make him feel unwelcome for it. It was true that he’d been doing a lot of soul searching lately, but the one thing he was sure he needed to do was to stop apologizing for taking up space in the world. So, he squared his shoulders and looked around, looking for an empty spot. The balcony was more of an unroofed hall than an actual balcony. It could seat at least twenty, but since only close friends and family were allowed, places were dispersed around the humongous throne seat. It was absolutely obscene, and Magnus had the deranged idea that it could possibly sink right through the floor into the ground below once Alec’s weight was added to it.

A sweet voice calling his name shook him from the weird line of thought, and he turned to see Isabelle waving at him from her spot. She was sitting on the right of the big throne seat, her wife seated next to her. They both looked dashing in their gowns. Isabelle in her signature red, and Maia in deep blue, heads adorned in jewel encrusted diadems. Maia’s had the different shapes of the moon carved into it, no doubt a homage to her country, while Isabelle’s looked like a constellation of stars, intricately woven into her lush dark hair.  They made the most beautiful couple and Magnus couldn’t help but feel underdressed for the occasion. He approached the pair, bowing at the waist.

“Your Highnesses”, he began, “Allow me to say you both look radiant today”

Isabelle blushed slightly “Thank you, Prince Magnus. You look rather dashing as well. Please, sit with us”. She looked around, and then leaned towards him, whispering “I am under strict orders to take you after my wing, you see”

Magnus couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of him. He could only imagine what Alexander had told his sister to justify the request. He thanked them and took the seat next to Maia, motioning to their heads “I didn’t know this was a formal royal function. Alexander didn’t say”. He wanted to take back the words the second they left his mouth, and from the look Maia and Isabelle shared, it would have been the wise thing to do.

He could feel the heat suffusing his face, and Isabelle smiled at him knowingly and teased “Well, Alexander”, she emphasized, “didn’t say because it isn’t one”

“We just thought they looked pretty”, Maia piped up, shrugging “Felt like a waste not wearing them”

“Jia is probably going to give me the stink eye for the faux-pas” Isabelle added, eyes twinkling with mischief, “but well…”

“There’s really nothing she can do about it” Maia finished, grinning wickedly.

Every day he spent in Alicante, Magnus realized how far off his assumptions about the Lightwoods were. He hadn’t met the late Emperor Robert, but his wife and children were the kindest people he ever met, and despite everything surrounding the circumstances that brought him here, he felt truly blessed to have had the opportunity to meet them.

He continued chatting with the princesses, making sure to avoid eye contact with the rest of the congregated party on the balcony. He was sure questions and rumors were spreading like crazy, and while his stomach did twist a bit at the thought, it wasn’t enough to take away from his excitement. A blaring horn cut the air a few minutes later, accompanied by the rhythmic beats of boots. A sea of soldiers in their formal dress uniforms filled the square below, separating into neat defined formations.

Chatter filled the air as people pointed out their favorite troops and battalions. Izzy started telling him the story of how Alexander had wanted to become an archer as a child, begging his father to let him join the troops, but his father had been against him serving in the army.

A blur of red caught his eye by the awning of the balcony, and Magnus looked up to see Clarissa straining in the doorway, looking around the seated people, searching for someone. The second her eyes found Magnus’, she deflated in relief, and Magnus’ stomach wound up in knots, a sick feeling of dread coiling inside him. He excused himself from Isabelle and Maia and moved toward the redhead, and even before she opened her mouth, he knew what was coming.

Clarissa nodded her head at him, a different person than the attendant that had offered him refreshments not even half an hour ago. She smiled at him apologetically “Alec sent me to find you. Camille is at the gates”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go, guys. Next chapter, you get to meet Camille, and I apologize in advance for the havoc she's going to wreak! 
> 
> I don't say this nearly often, but Suhasini, thank you for the time and effort you put into making this story what it is, and reassuring this gaal that she's not entirely mucking it up <3
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments. I'd love to hear your thoughts <3 Until next time :*


	6. The Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, Hello! Long time, no see! I am sorry this took so long. Taking a break from how dense this story is was the only way I could power through, and I believe it did a lot of good, because I'm super pumped for it again!  
> Thank you for sticking out this long hiatus, and I hope you enjoy this long overdue chapter <3

Magnus’ stomach was revolting, badly. He felt feverish and twitchy, but nevertheless, he moved around Clarissa to leave. The redhead moved with him, cutting off his route.

“Oh no, you don’t! I’m sorry, prince Magnus, but I was told to keep you on this balcony”

Frustration simmered within him “You expect me to do nothing? Why tell me she’s here in the first place, then?”

“His majesty said that he didn’t want you to be caught off guard when you saw her, but my orders were clear, Your Highness. Consider me your security detail for the day”

“I don’t need security”. Magnus knew it was none of Clarissa’s fault. After all, she really was just following orders, but she was the one delivering Alec’s decree, so she was getting the brunt of his tumultuous state. They were supposed to do this together. That had been the deal. He didn’t particularly want to see Camille nor deal with her, but he also didn’t want her alone with Alexander. He couldn’t begin to think of all the ways she could antagonize him, and the thought made him antsy. He glared at Clarissa some more, but she simply arched a brow at him, fully relaying her indifference to his temper tantrum. She had dropped the attendant façade completely. Now, she was a warrior ready for battle, and she looked like she hadn’t decided if she was going to have to fight him.

“You should go back to your seat, Your Highness. The ceremony will begin shortly”. When he wouldn’t budge, but merely kept eyeballing her, she tried a different tactic “People are starting to stare, Prince Magnus, and I would rather not let on that anything is amiss”

A glance at their surroundings confirmed her words. People were indeed side-eyeing them, chattering in hushed whispers, probably wondering if the Edomai prince had stumbled upon the balcony by mistake and was now getting thrown out to sit with the rest of the masses. Magnus took a deep breath, hoping to settle his upset stomach and get past the urge to throw up, then turned back and returned to his seat by the princesses. Isabelle was looking at him worriedly “Is everything alright, Prince Magnus?”

He pasted on a small smile that he hoped maintained the ruse and assured her “Yes, everything is perfect. Just anxious to see the show, I guess”

She seemed to take his words at face value, smiling back at him then returning to her conversation with her wife, while Magnus sat there fuming, thinking of what Camille’s arrival meant for him. Surprisingly enough, he didn’t feel scared. In the three years since Camille had turned his life upside down, seeing her again had become a recurrent nightmare of his, as his unconscious dreaded and fretted and created scenarios where one look from her would send him spiraling back to where he started, a scared broken man held prisoner in her chambers, and worst of all, in his own mind. However, sitting there stewing on that balcony, he realized that his fear was nowhere to be found. All he felt was rage and anger for all that she had put him and countless others through.

Just then, Magnus’ eyes caught on a blur of red, and he looked down to see a tall slim figure sweep into the courtyard below, long brown hair draped over her shoulders. He couldn’t see her expression clearly from that angle, but he knew she would be smirking at everyone below, steeping in the sense of her own superiority.

She passed through ranks of soldiers, unconcerned for the disturbance she was causing, and crossed the courtyard to where Raphael was seated, settling into a chair that had been hastily brought out to accommodate her abrupt arrival. Camille ignored the chatter and buzz she’d caused by making a late entrance, chatting with Raphael like she was unconcerned with people’s gossip, but Magnus knew better. Camille thrived on being the center of attention, relished people thinking of her as this mysterious illusive force. He’d wager all the gold in Idris that she had planned her arrival sorely to take some shine away from Alexander’s moment, upending the ceremony until her Majesty deemed it so.

Camille’s biggest power play was control. When she controlled the tone of the room, the excitement of the crowd, she felt powerful. She’d done it their entire life. At a certain point in time, he’d thought that that meant a charm, a compelling charisma was at play, and maybe in her own morbid way, she was charismatic, but all he had to do was think of Alexander to feel the difference. Alexander ruled a room simply by existing in it. He didn’t have to play a part or intimidate anyone in order to command attention. He simply had to be.

Speaking of the Devil, what sounded like a foghorn sounded from the twin towers overlooking the courtyard, before Jace stepped through the ranks of soldiers, clad in full military uniform, his medals shining in the sunlight, looking mighty stiff and uncomfortable. Magnus could barely hear Isabelle’s titter. He looked over to see her do her best to stem her laughter, while her wife nudged her ruefully. As if feeling her amusement, Jace looked up straight at his sister, his eyes narrowing menacingly, and then bellowed in a startling voice “All rise for His Imperial Highness, Alexander Gideon Lightwood, Crown Prince of Idris”

A mass shuffling occurred as the entire courtyard rose in deference to the lovely man who stepped through the balcony doors, his tall frame clad in an exquisite green tunic, embroidered in golden thread. A streaming cape trailed behind him, making him look even more regal. A diadem in gold rested at his temples, a beautiful artifact befitting his station of prince. It was the first time Magnus had seen his head adorned in coronation, and he couldn’t help but feel like he was made for the headpiece. The contrast between his dark lovingly mussed hair and the bright shine of the diadem made for the most stunning sight, framing his ethereal features and accentuating his jewel toned eyes. Magnus couldn’t look away from him to save his life, but he felt certain in his assumption that at least someone in the crowd must’ve fainted at his sight. He eclipsed the sun, and as he moved gracefully to take his place at the throne, Magnus could feel that charisma he was just thinking about at work. Every eye was on him, every breath following the pattern of his steps. Camille, in all her rancid glory, could never achieve such a feat. In fact, as Magnus made the enormous effort to look away from Alexander and stole a glance at her, he found her pretty face scrunched in an ugly sneer, and he fought the urge to chuckle. Good, he thought ruefully. Let her understand that she was far from being the darling of the crowd here! Maybe that’ll teach her her own irrelevance.

Alec took his seat at the helm, and motioned for the ceremony to begin. Magnus remembered how much he’d been dreading the utter boredom of the happenings, and had to stifle a fond smile. He was probably counting the minutes until he could retire back to his sanctuary, surrounded by books and haphazard paperwork.

Like a well-rehearsed dance, every military grade stepped forward, offering a salute, only for their commanding officer to step forward and drop on one knee, reciting a vow of loyalty.

After the sixth platoon fell back into ranks, Magnus started to understand Alexander’s reluctance. This was the most boring ceremony he’d ever had to attend. He’d genuinely thought that the soldiers would, at the very least, do some show, presenting their various skills, but apparently, that didn’t offer much in the way of allegiance. If you asked him, he’d be far more willing to be surrounded by people who could put on a good show, than just walk in neat formation, but that was probably not what an army was supposed to be for. _Buzzkills!_

He tried his best not to pay any heed to Camille, focusing solely on the center of the yard, but he could feel eyes gouging into the side of his head, as she probably tried to puzzle out what cause he would have to sit in a place of honor, amongst the Emperor’s close family. He found that he wasn’t bothered by her intrusive stare. Let her wonder! Let her fret! It was a nice change of pace from their usual dynamic. He knew that Raphael would run circles around her, if he had to.

His stomach soured slightly as he thought of her figuring out his feelings for Alec. Knowing Camille, she’d have a jolly time finding a way to utilize his feelings against him, and if he had one thing that he hoped to keep untainted by her claws, it was this thing he had with Alec; Romance, love, relationship, he didn’t really know what to call it. It was too early for labels, but despite the young tender age of it, it was anything but fragile. On the contrary, it felt strong and substantial and bigger than life. It had lent him strength when he’d felt like he didn’t have any, and had given him hope when he’d considered it lost forever. It was only fair that he be protective of it. That malicious creature didn’t get to sour it.

Jace was the last one in the fray. As war general, it was only customary that his allegiance would be dependent on that of all his officers. He stepped forward, his gait a bit less stiff than at the beginning, like the hardly worn clothes were finally shaping to his body, and he could swear he heard a tiny whimper on his right. He turned his head to see Clary standing beside him, as stoic as when the whole ceremony started, her face a blank mask, and decided that he’d probably imagined it.

Jace stepped up to the center of the long lines of soldiers, and dropped to one knee with ease, a small satisfied smile teasing the corner of his lip. His voice was clear, carrying around the yard as he recited his vow, the tinge of pride abundantly clear with every uttered sentence. A look to his left showed Isabelle nearly brimming with the same feeling, and the sight caused something to ping in his heart.

It was reassuring to see Alec’s siblings be so happy for his ascension. In royal families that normally lived like mangled bloody bodies in shark-infested waters, it was hard to find allies, friends that would support you through thick and thin. His family had certainly never been the type, even his very distant relations letting their envy and bitterness rot them from the inside. Seeing Alec’s siblings be so happy for him made him happy, reassured that Alec would always have people to hold him up, to help him soar. He remembered Maryse, probably sitting alone in her white garden, and his happiness was infected by grief, for her and for her obviously strained relationship with her children. It wasn’t right. She should’ve been here, standing by Alec’s side, supporting him. But it wasn’t his story to know, and it wasn’t his cross to bear. At the end of the day, all he could do, was be there himself. It was the best stand he ever made.

* * *

 

“You’re not telling me everything”

“I told you everything that happened”

“There is no way she didn’t say something or do something. Just tell me, Alexander”, Magnus whined, and Alec felt heat sear his skin, his brain forgetting all about Camille and her scheming ways and latching on to the ridiculous pout Magnus was giving him as he said his name. Alec wanted to eat it up, wanted to gorge himself on those beautiful lips and forget the world outside these walls even existed.

He’d spent the entire day being totted around like a prized mare as tier after tier of military platoons offered their fealty, followed by a magnificent feast that had transformed the dining Hall into a scene out of a whimsical tale. He made a note to give his staff a raise after this whole festival was over. The poor people were probably overwrought with making sure royals and nobility alike stayed entertained night after night.

He’d refrained from eating much at the fest, preferring to wait until he could slip away and have a quiet dinner with Magnus in his room, and he honestly couldn’t be bothered to ruin his appetite and make their conversation be about Camille.

“She was perfectly respectful… Well, as respectful as one can be without outright insulting you to your face, I suppose”, Alec amended, recalling the slight curl of Camille’s lip, an obvious sign of disdain that had betrayed her usually blank expression. The haste with which she’d had to travel to do damage control on her failed murderous schemes was probably part of the reason why she was so out of sorts. Alec had relished her state of slight disarray, even as he welcomed her into his home and honored her arrival. He’d barely had time to send Clary away before she’d swooped in, acting like she was only there to witness his coronation, as if nothing else was amiss.

He told Magnus all of this, hoping the soothing edge of his words would help appease the worried frown on the prince’s face, but Magnus’ expression remained pinched, lips puckered in distate. Alec could only guess the amount of turmoil her arrival was giving him, having to deal with his abuser for the first time in years. If he didn’t know Magnus would rage against the idea, he’d suggest whisking him away to some undisclosed location until Camille no longer breathed the same air as he, but Magnus was no coward. Alec would have his ire if he even dared mention it.

“She can’t touch you, Magnus. Clary will make sure of it when I’m not around”, Alec assured him, and surprisingly, Magnus turned his frown on him, muttering sarcastically “Yes, I feel much better being escorted everywhere by a trained killer”.

Alec snorted, conceding his point, and Magnus continued, his hands nervously positioning the plates on the table, moving the cutlery around and just explicitly spelling out his discomfort “I’m not worried about my safety, you git. I highly doubt I’ll be in danger”

Alec was confused for a second, noting the tightening of Magnus’ face and the whitening around his lips. He laid his hand gently over his, stilling the nervous jittering of it. Magnus sighed before turning his hand around and curling his fingers around Alec’s. He was still nervous though, Alec could tell. It was eerie how attuned he’d become to him even after a few days, intrinsically knowing when Magnus was feeling anything less than perfect. “What is it, Magnus? What’s got you so worried?”, he asked gently, skimming his thumb over Magnus’ knuckles, chills spreading in his wake.

Tortured eyes lifted to his, pinning him to his place with the force of their misery, and Alec wanted to curl his limbs around Magnus and squeeze him tight until all the pain in him just leeched away.

“When I was engaged to Camille, she was always this blank entity that I could never seem to figure out”, she started, and Alec tightened his fingers around Magnus. Despite not wanting to hear about a time when Magnus belonged to that witch, he wanted Magnus to be able to tell him everything, to find a safe haven in him the same way that Alec felt about him, so he nodded for him to continue.

“She never even gave me a flare of hope that she could grow to love me, but sometimes she’d say these throwaway comments that kept me hooked. Everyone around could see that she was manipulating me to keep me from breaking the betrothal… Hell, Raphael used to rail at me for it every single day, but she knew just what to say, just how to twist her words to make me feel like that flare of hope could be kept alive, that once we got married, we could make a real union of our situation”.

Alec could feel the tinge of bitterness in Magnus’ words, the edge of desperate youthful hunger for companionship and love, and he hated that Camille had soured those notions for such a pure soul.

“It wasn’t your fault, Magnus. That’s what people like Camille do, lie and deceive and scheme. She is a master at manipulation”, Alec appeased, and Magnus laughed humorously, squeezing Alec’s hand in his grasp “That’s my whole point, Alexander. I don’t… I don’t want her to say something to you to… I don’t want her to come between us”

Alec’s heart ached for the fear he heard in his lover’s voice, and without meaning to, he could feel his lips unfurl in a smile. “You foolish man”, he muttered as he rose and crossed to Magnus, putting his hands on the man’s shoulders and kneading the tension out of his limbs. “I would never believe anything she had to say, you know. My opinion of you…”, he thought about the first time he’d seen Magnus, how hard he’d tried to keep from getting close to him. In a way, Alec liked Magnus despite himself. Everything in him strained for him to protect himself, and yet he felt powerful to deny his heart the pleasure of the man’s company. His opinion of Magnus was formed of layers and nuances, tangled with a hundred sensations and growing bigger by the day. 

“My opinion of you has nothing to do with anybody else”

Magnus chuckled quietly as his hand rose to clasp Alec’s on his shoulder “So, what you’re saying is that I shouldn’t tease you overtly if I want to remain in your good graces”

Alec smiled despite himself, because Magnus did excel at saying things that made him blush and stutter “Who are you kidding? You’d tease me anyway”

Magnus stole a glance at him over his shoulder, his eyes twinkling with the light of mischief, and Alec was so relieved to see the pain and misery eclipsed that he almost sagged to his knees.

“You love it”, he teased coyly.

_I love you_. The thought popped up unbidden in Alec’s head and he almost gasped out loud from the rawness of it. He shook his head to dispel the insane notion. He didn’t love him. It was true that he liked Magus beyond what he thought could be possible in such a short amount of time, but he didn’t love him. There was no way. The lack of reaction from his wrist was even more proof of that. No, he was just tired and his brain was playing tricks on him. His heart rate started slowing down as he managed to convince himself of the truth of his thoughts. He even managed to ignore the slight bitter disappointment in his gut. It was probably just indigestion.

“I do”, he admitted quietly, lips unfurling in what he hoped was a sincere smile. From the quirk of Magnus’ eyebrows, he wasn’t fully successful.

Hoping to both distract him, and lose himself in the feel of him, Alec moved his hands over Magnus’ arms, leaning down to put his chin on the prince’s shoulder, their cheeks meeting, stubble against clean skin, the scent of sandalwood intoxicating his senses. He laid a gentle kiss in the crook of Magnus’ neck, watching goosebumps spread across the area he teased, and whispered “Come to bed”

Magnus turned his head around, catching his lips in a searing kiss that nearly fried Alec’s brain, tongues tangling wetly in a scorching tantalizing sensation. Short nailed fingers raked through his hair, scoring his scalp and dragging a lust filled moan out of him. Too soon, Magnus leaned back, his fingers still tangled in Alec’s locks, and said apologetically “I think it’s best if I go back to my room tonight”

Alec told his body to calm down enough for him to form coherent words and said “If you’re not ready for more, we don’t have to do anything. I just want to lay next to you”

Magnus’ eyes went soft at that, and his left hand settled on Alec’s cheek as he turned to look at him fully. “I’d love nothing more, but that’s not why I need to go back to my room”

_What, then?_ Alec wanted to sulk, but caught himself in time. Dear God, he wanted to sulk, that was how insane Magnus made him feel. Maybe he was right. Some distance could probably do him good. Maybe he’d start thinking with something other than his heart, and other affected regions.

“Alexander, you know the rumors are already going insane”, Magnus started quietly, and Alec focused back on their conversation, frowning at Magnus “You know that I don’t care about gossip”

“Well, you should”, Magnus insisted, before heaving a deep breath, fluttering over Alec’s lips and making them tingle with yearning “If she found out about something between us…”

“She already tried to kill me”, Alec countered, peeved that Camille was intruding even when it came to his sleeping arrangements.

“Believe me, I haven’t forgotten, but now she’s here, in the flesh, and you’re getting crowned the day after tomorrow. Let’s just lay low until then. Don’t antagonize her, please”

Alec just quirked a brow at him, because over his dead body would he give in to the little witch’s psychotic tendencies. He was about to launch into another argument, when he noticed the dark circles under Magnus’ eyes, the pallor of his skin and the slight tightening around his eyes. He realized that Magnus was tired, probably had been all day, and who could blame him, when he had to look over his shoulder every moment of the day, dreading a meeting he’d spent years avoiding. No matter how much Alec hated the situation, he would never do anything to put more strain on him, so he just nodded reluctantly and leaned forward to kiss Magnus’ forehead.

“Alright, I won’t argue with your reasoning, but please know that I strongly object to this decision, and will miss you next to me like crazy”

Magnus’ smile started slow, and it felt like the sun making an encore performance in the middle of the night, shining bright, obliterating Alec’ worried and fears into a burst of cosmic dust.

Eyes twinkling, he leaned forward to lean their foreheads together and whispered reverently “Where have you been all my life, Alexander?”

_Waiting for you, dreading you, and thinking of you with every breath I take._ “Right here”

* * *

Magnus prided himself on his unruffled disposition on most days. In fact, despite being a basket case for the past few years, there weren’t many things that could unnerve him. Sitting across from Clarissa Fairchild, having tea and jam scones was unfortunately one of those things. He didn’t know what exactly had him transfixed in the young assassin, her cool detached disposition, the casual way she was draped across the seat, relishing her breakfast with a hearty appetite, or the way she did all this while remaining completely ready for battle, her eyes scanning the perimeter diligently, with a sharp eye.

“Do I have something on my chin, Your Highness?”, she said with a smirk, lifting her eyes to pin him with a forest green gaze.

Magnus swallowed convulsively, trying to ignore the fact that, only recently, this girl had tried to kill Alexander. “No, not at all. I’m just observing. I find myself not that hungry this morning”

“Something amiss?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary, just a general ambiance, I presume”

“Alec, I mean… His Majesty didn’t really specify why you needed a guard on duty, but I would assume that Queen Camille’s presence is partly to blame for your disgruntled stomach?”, she asked sheepishly, affecting an innocent expression that Magnus didn’t buy for a second.

“I don’t need a guard on duty. Alexander is just being overly cautious. Not that I blame him. After all, Her Majesty did attempt to kill him last week”

Clary flinched slightly, and the sight shouldn’t have made Magnus as satisfied as it did. For one, it relayed how badly she felt about the whole ordeal, and that in turn made Magnus feel reassured not only about her keeping him company, but also about the honesty of her commitment to Alexander’s help. But mostly, Magnus was still peeved about her line of work in the first place. She’d tried to kill one of the most important people in his life. He was allowed to hold a grudge.

Clary, in her defense, did not try to make excuses for her actions. She merely tilted her head in acceptance and replied “For what it’s worth, Your Highness. I do share the Emperor’s caution when it comes to Camille. She’s wily and resourceful, and if she has some conceived grievance against you, I find it prudent to be safe rather than play into her plans”

Magnus couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped him at that. As if he needed someone to tell him how dangerous and disastrous tangling with Camille could be. He still bore the scars of it. The fact that they didn’t show on his skin did not by any means imply that they weren’t deep and significant.

“Trust me, Clary. I know more than anyone how wily Camille is, which is why I want to make something clear”, he started, leaning forward in his seat to accentuate the severity of his statement. “Camille will not take your betrayal to her cause easily. After all, she did dispatch you with a task that you failed to complete. Be prepared to deal with the consequences of that and Clarissa… If whatever she throws your way makes you for one second think of betraying Alexander, I will personally bury you, and I don’t care what skill set you have, or who your father is”

Magnus didn’t know if he should feel offended by the amusement evident on her face at his threat. He thought he was being remarkably vicious right then, but the young assassin just nodded and replied easily “Duly noted. I wouldn’t dream of it. After all, Edom has a long history that I wouldn’t take for granted. But you don’t have to worry; Camille has nothing that I could possibly want”

She went back to her food, throwing back scones and buttered bread into the seemingly endless pit of her stomach. How a frame so small could fit so much food inside was beyond Magnus’ understanding, but at the very least, she made him feel better about his nauseous stomach. Somebody had to eat Leo’s good meal.

It had been her idea to avoid the dining hall this morning, calling for a breakfast spread to be sent to his chambers instead. Apparently, with the coronation coming up at warp speed on the morrow, more dignitaries and local nobility had congregated in the palace grounds. The entire place was a mess, crowds in every public square and hall. To hear Clary tell it, the dining Hall was so crowded that ensuring his safety would be unduly difficult, and foolhardy. Magnus didn’t argue with her professional assessment of the situation, but hoped that she didn’t expect him to be holed up in his room for the entirety of the day, like a delicate flower to be coddled and pampered. He’ll be damned if he let Camille run him off a place where he’d felt most welcome. He was done letting that witch man the strings that held his life together. She had no power in this place, and it was high time she knew it.

Clary put down her saucer with a clink, rousing him from his thoughts. She seemed to have finally consumed enough to appease her appetite. She looked up at him, her gaze swimming with words she looked to be considering thoughtfully, and Magnus felt obliged to wait her out. He couldn’t help but feel like what she was about to utter was important.

“If I may, Your Highness, I would just like to say that, first of all, I find it admirable that you would threaten someone that could literally skewer you with a butter knife and not break a sweat, because it shows how much you care about Alec, but I would like to return the favor”

Magnus tried not to let on to the trembling of his hands at her casually thrown out threat and reply “What do you mean?”

“I mean, that if you betray the Emperor, I personally take it upon my responsibility to make you pay for it. Killing Alec notwithstanding, I don’t miss a mark”

She didn’t wait for his reaction to her words before she continued “I am very familiar with the face of secrets, Prince Magnus, and you have plenty of them. Dark shadows that hide beneath your gaze and make a pass every time you let your guard down. I don’t presume to know what it is you’re hiding, or even the nature of it. Maybe you have no nefarious motives, and maybe you do, but just know that I do not tolerate people messing with my loved ones”. She leaned back and smiled, as if the two of them were having a very pleasant chat that didn’t detail all the ways this trained killer could string him up on the ceiling. “I can make Camille look like a court jester”, she finished, particularly proud of her set of skills.

Magnus refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing him tremble, although he couldn’t suppress the violent shivers that skated under his clothes or the bead of sweat that was running down his spine. He couldn’t blame this brash bold girl for her words. After all, nefarious reasons or not, Magnus did have a secret. He could feel the wildfire burn through his being at the memory of that blasted meeting with Azazel. Call it intuition or dread, but Magnus knew he hadn’t seen the last of it yet.

* * *

 

Alec’s head felt like it was about to split open. His headache had started sometime around the arrival of a certain malevolent queen, and had yet to recede even in the following day. In fact, every time he remembered Camille’s stay at the palace and all the horrible scheming she could be getting up to, he felt another stab behind his eyes, like pinpricks of pure agony slicing through his pounding head. He wanted her gone. Better yet, he wanted her punished for her crimes, which was the only reason he’d kept a leach on his fury yesterday, and why he was playing the diplomat.

As much as he hated to admit it, his father had taught him some precious lessons in life. Right at the top was: Never let an enemy see you waver. Be the steady boulder in the stream, the rooted tree in the torrent. It would be a cold day in Hell before Her Majesty got the satisfaction of seeing him squirm. It didn’t mean that his stomach wasn’t a riot of knots and thorns as he dreaded her next move. Why she would come here, he had yet to understand.

At least, Magnus was safe, Alec thought with a slight note of comfort. He marveled at how Clary had stepped up immediately once the guards had called to tell them of Camille’s arrival. She’d simply looked him in the eye and asked in her unwavering calm to be directed at a task to complete. He supposed that, having been commissioned by the wicked witch, Clary understood just how dire of a threat she posed. She hadn’t been surprised by his directive to protect Magnus at all costs, merely inclined her head in understanding, flicking her gaze to his leather band before leaving him to his duties, her perceptiveness and keen sense of observation causing a warring feeling of amusement and wariness within him. He didn’t like that she’d so readily guessed at his most precious secret, but then again, better it be her than a nemesis!

The words on the contract in front of him blurred, his mired thoughts overwhelming his vision to the point where any attempt at concentration proved futile. Alec dropped the papers to his desk in disgust. He needed to work. These contracts could very well be the solution to his problem, and thus to the subsequent headache.

Sugar, wheat and rice… little amenities that meant little to no importance to any resident of Alicante, or the Fairie lands, small basic necessities that were harbored in every household and used without worry, but to the destitute people of the south, they were rare treasures that were exchanged for ludicrous sums.

Alec could admit that he wasn’t a perfect liege, far from it, and these contracts just proved it. For a year, he’d held the executive power of the Empire in his hands, unencumbered by his ill father, and he could shamefully admit that it had skipped his regard to provide trade deals for Edom. It had escaped his notice that his great grandfather had cut all ties but the leash of power in some distant pique of imperious temper, and that a country under his reign was slowly crumbling under the strain of its own poverty. Magnus’ confession of how dire his country had gotten had lit a fire of determination under Alec, and worse yet, a pit of dark shame at his own shortcomings.

He made an oath then and there that he would see this through, regardless of the ire of the council and the assumptions of the people. He was going to fix what his ancestors had broken, and he was going to do it his way.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door, followed by Steven’s frowny face as he cleared his throat and said, voice a tight carefully furious mumble “Her Majesty, Queen of DuMort would like a word, Your Majesty”

Alec could feel his stomach coil with dread. What on Earth did the snake want now? “Does she have an appointment?”

“Come now, Your Highness. A few moments surely wouldn’t be the doom of the Empire”, a shrill voice filled the room at the same time the almost rank sweetness of her perfume clogged his nostrils, permeating the space in a cloud of toxic air. Camille swaggered into the office, her blood red robes trailing behind her like a villain from an old tale, a rather apt description, Alec thought wryly, standing up to greet the impertinent royal. Her use of his technical title hadn’t gone unnoticed either. _Your Highness_. As if to remind him that he wasn’t emperor yet, as if to remind him that if it were up to her, he never would be.

Steven looked like he was about to say something extremely scathing, and while Alec understood that his friend had felt slighted by her total disregard for his duty , just strolling in uninvited, the heart of the matter remained that she was a queen and he was a guard, and out of the two of them, she would always win. Her smug smile spelled it in capital letters, and Alec understood that _this_ was Camille, a force of evil stalking the halls, wreaking bitterness and disdain amongst people, never afraid to use her power and her station as a whip to lash the tongues and the wills of those beneath her. No wonder she and Magnus couldn’t get along. They were so different they didn’t seem like they belonged to the same species. His beautiful prince, with the gentle disposition of a saint and the heart of gold; He probably couldn’t even fathom such evil before her.

However, Alec wasn’t a lowly servant Camille could bully, or an equal royal she could terrorize into submission. Alec had and always will be her better, both in power, and in status, and it was that fact that rankled her so thoroughly, that had driven her to great lengths as to order his demise. Even now, she looked around his office with a barely concealed snarl of disgust, as if dismayed by the practical way he arranged his desk, or the meager personal items he had there. Camille on the throne of the Empire would probably have all her prized possessions on display. Her office would resemble a shrine to her spoils of war and her reign of terror. A finger chill went down his spine at the thought.

He motioned for Steven to leave them, silently ordering him to keep his mouth shut. His companion, always too smart for the follies of pride, heaved a disgruntled breath and poked his head out the door, leaving it partly ajar. Camille arched a brow at that, and Alec shrugged innocently, playing the role of the completely docile sovereign that she no doubt expected. “Standard safety procedure, I’m afraid. I wouldn’t want to alarm you, but an attempt has been made on my life recently”

Camille’s mouth tightened, the whites around her lips apparent for a moment before she draped herself across the chair, again uninvited to do so, and purred coyly “Oh, dear me, how awful! Pray tell, Your Highness, how did you learn of such a terrible thing?”

Alec almost laughed at the comical performance. So, she was playing a role as well, that of the sensible royal with spells of fainting, a blossom not used to hear about murders and killings. Her mother’s blood on her hands said otherwise, but Alec wasn’t a fool, to play his hand so early in the game. “Servants, you see, talk incessantly. It was strongly suggested that someone might try something before the coronation tomorrow, which is why my guard is a bit skittish. I’m afraid, that unlike my siblings, I was never left to tend to matters of combat”

Camille frowned slightly before letting out a light laugh and saying “Forgive me, but I wondered for a second why you were talking in plural before I remembered your father’s charity case. A Herondale, wasn’t it?”, she asked with a quirk of the brows, and Alec had to tighten his fists at his sides not to lash out and snap her neck.

He’d always believed Camille to be devious, but right then, he realized that she also had a bit of stupid thrown in the mix. He remembered Magnus calling her reckless, too sure of her own superiority, too immersed in her hubris. “I am fully aware that it’s been a while since you’ve been to Court, Camille, but I must warn you against such follies as what just came out of your mouth. The Herondales are one of the purest bloodlines in the history of the Empire. Let’s not forget ourselves”

It was apparent that Her Majesty didn’t expect to be called out on her shit, by the brittle tight-lipped smile she gave him at the comment. She probably relied on the ooze of complete acidity she let out in her wake do the job for her, giving her an aura of untouchable fear. Not to him. He knew how festering and rancid she was, and all he had to do was think of the leather band on his wrist to remember it.

“I didn’t mean any offense, Your Highness. I just meant that considering him a sibling would not make him so, otherwise we would have another contender for the throne”. The threat was imminently blatant in her words, as she heaved herself out of her chair and started prancing about the room, taking stock of the bookshelf in the corner and perusing the spines with a finger.

“No, His Lordship has no wish to assume the throne, I’m afraid, bloodlines or not, but there is the matter of my sister”, he said casually, wanting nothing to do with this entire conversation.

“Oh”, Camille smiled as if letting him on a big secret, waving her hand dismissively, “Princess Isabelle wouldn’t assume the throne. She’s married to the heir of another country”.

It was disconcerting how much thought she’d put into this, but what rattled Alec the most, was the fact that she was letting him know about her thought process. It was like a villain in a tale, parading their entire masterplan before they dealt the killing blow to their victim. She seemed completely unapologetic about talking of his line of succession, and he wanted to stop with the games and the hidden jabs and just tell her that he knew she’d sent an assassin after him, but he had no proof beyond Clary, and that would never hold up against royalty. For a split second, Alec wished that Clary had been an Edomai mercenary. At least those guys never worked without clad iron contracts, but no, his friend was merely commissioned through word of mouth, and he doubted Valentine would help them prove any commission took place. _Bad for business and all_. No, what he needed was Asmodeus’ stash of evidence, irrefutable proof that this witch had orchestrated her own mother’s death. Until then, he needed to bid his time and play her game, cordially exchanging poisonous barbs and vicious verbal spars, coated in tight fake smiles.

“Despite the riveting revelations about my own family, did you need anything, Camille? I have business to attend to”, Alec drawled out, leaning back in his chair, a bored mask of indifference settling over his features.

“Oh, I just wanted to apologize personally for merely sending a retinue from DuMort before. I admit that the thought of missing out on some Idrisian fun was too much for me to bear”, she answered slyly, slithering up to his desk and looking down at him with a twinkle in her eye that was supposed to be seductive, Alec thought, but he neither had the desire nor the stomach to lay with snakes.

He was about to answer her when her eyes flit about his desk, settling on the trade agreement he was drafting, and her nostrils flared momentarily before she adopted a pleasant expression, and looked up at him. “As I live and breathe, I never thought I’d see the day Edom and Idris were in business together”

Alec wanted to smack himself for his own inattentiveness, and swiftly turned the papers around, cutting off her view. He arched a brow and asked imperiously “Last time I checked, I hadn’t given you leave to peruse my documents, Camille”

A throaty chuckle escaped the monarch as she breezily replied, undaunted by the glare he aimed her way “Oh, don’t be cross, Your Highness. My eyes just caught on the words. My lips are sealed. Although, your poor ancestors would be rolling in their graves now, wouldn’t they?”

“Edom is a country of the Empire. I see nothing out of the ordinary about conducting business”, he volleyed back.

“Hmm, but you see, Dear Prince Alexander, it was a country of the Empire even a year ago, and yet somehow, that had never proved a worthy incentive. Is it a certain someone who managed to provide one?”, she said, fingernail skimming the length of his desk, a smirk stretching the corner of her blood red lips in assumed genius, and Alec just about stopped himself from rolling his eyes. This conversation hadn’t helped his aching head any. In fact, he could feel a sudden twitch developing in the corner of his eye as he navigated the murky waters Camille was wading through.

He shrugged a bit “Better late than never, I say”.

“I guess so”, she replied magnanimously, then continued casually, as an afterthought “After all, Prince Magnus is charming enough to make anyone consider alliances”

_Don’t mention his name on your lips, you bitch!_ Alec wanted to snap, but held himself just in time. In that moment, he wanted to send a hundred prayer of thanks to Valentine Morgenstern and Robert Lightwood for teaching him restraint, first and foremost.

She looked at him curiously, her beady eyes clearly searching for a reaction to her jab. Alec knew that she hadn’t gotten any, when she moved away from the desk, saying over her shoulder “Edomai, they have this way about them. They use their silver tongues to make their plan appear the most appealing of all. I myself, have been duped by their seeming ingenuity”

“Is that so?”, he asked casually, his eyes trained on the papers in front of him, as if the question was asked in nothing more than fleeting politeness. In reality, Alec was steaming inside at her attempt at subterfuge. How dare she stain Magnus’ name after everything she’s put him through?

“Yes, it was not a story wildly known outside of our borders, but I was in fact, betrothed to Prince Magnus for most of our young lives. Our parents’ feeble attempt at uniting the South, I believe”

“And how did that work out for you, Your Majesty?”, he asked with a forced chuckle, turning the page.

“Oh, dreadfully! Prince Magnus was nothing like he claimed to be. You would say that his honeyed words dried up quite promptly once we were better acquainted with each other. He proved to be a terrible team player”, she shared with a dose of disappointment, shaking her head ruefully.

Alec had to give it to her, the way she managed to maintain just enough of the truth in her statement as to warrant belief, while also spinning the entire tale to show herself in a positive light was quite impressive. It also made him want to do violent things no sane person had a right considering. He remembered the blankness from Magnus’ eyes, the tremble in his limbs as he told him of the torture and the abuse, and his heart squeezed painfully. He wanted to protect him from anything that could ever cause him pain, wanted to shelter him from the follies of the tumultuous world they lived in, and more than anything, ha wanted to be with him right then, sharing a drink or a meal or just that comfortable silence they found in each other. Instead, he had to deal with this cruel husk of a human being, who seemed tempted to talk in circles for days. Maybe that was how she defeated her enemies, just annoyed them to death until they waved a white flag and asked her to leave.

“Well, I guess it depends on what team you wanted him to play for”, he answered coolly, despite his ire, and she quirked an intrigued brow, considering. “I don’t know what it is you think you know, Your Highness, but I assure you, Prince Magnus is far from the innocent charming person he appears to be”

Alec laughed in earnest; partly because he couldn’t believe the nerve of her “I know you’re not insulting me by insinuating that I’m a poor judge of character, because that would be a very foolish thing to say, and you’re not foolish, are you, Camille?”

It was the first statement he made to indicate that he was aware of her on some level, and she seemed to know it, straightening and pushing her shoulders back, a malicious glint in her eye as she agreed with his assessment. Alec just tilted his head and motioned to the mess on his desk apologetically “Now, I really must get back to my work. I assume you’ll be plenty entertained until tonight’s dinner feast?”

“Oh, I won’t attend the feast. Too many blabbering loud mouths all intent on gossiping about why I’m here and what I’m doing. Nobody has time for that”, she waved away in contempt. If she hoped to insult him by rejecting his invitation, she would be sorely mistaken, because Alec actually agreed with her on that. He wouldn’t mind whisking Magnus away to a private dinner in his rooms and just revel in a quiet pleasant evening, but unfortunately, he was getting crowned tomorrow, and celebration was in full thrall. He owed the Court his presence.

He inclined his head in agreement and replied casually; fully aware of the impact of his words “Then I’ll see you at the ceremony tomorrow. I trust now that you’re here, Commander Raphael will no longer kneel for fealty?”

Oh, to see the ire on her face!

 If looks could kill, Camille would be dancing around his dead body right then, as the full force of her disgust hit him in a moment of vulnerability. Her face seemed to take longer than usual to put back its usual mask, as if her own facial features weren’t accustomed to twisting in such a vicious sneer, and was lagging to play catch up.

Alec buried his smile and arched a brow, daring her to say something. Camille smiled pleasantly and nodded; her face finally under control, the lines of her mouth white enough to suggest that she was holding back a torrent of words that would scald him. In a hurricane of swirling robes, she turned right back around and stalked out of the office, nearly bulldozing through poor Steven, who poked his head in the door as soon as the noise cleared in the hallway, eyes twinkling with mirth “I know nothing of the whole backstabbing diplomacy you two were doing here, but even I know that last one was just cruel”

Alec burst out laughing, knowing full well that despite having had the last word, when it came to Camille, he’d far from won.

* * *

 

The day went by in a blur, between Magnus trying to evade Clary and get some breathing space, to her finding him, sometimes even reaching his destination before he did, and generally being a nuisance. Magnus could say that he was actually impressed by her tenacity. She never got mad, never rolled her eyes at him, or acted like him wanting some freedom to roam around was exhausting for her. She just smirked at him whenever she caught up, and then settled at the wall like a sentinel, ready for some unforeseen danger.

He’d spent the day in a state of utter boredom. Raphael was probably busy giving updates to the wicked witch of the west, and Alexander had so many meetings and paperwork that Magnus hadn’t wanted to bother him at all. He’d ended up roaming the gardens again, hoping to catch sight of Queen Maryse again, but alas, the ethereal woman that had seemed like a figment of a dream remained elusive. In fact, whenever she came up in conversation, people usually looked away, chagrined, like it was her that passed away and not her husband. There was a story there that was weighed down with sorrow and pain, and Manus knew it wasn’t his place to know it, not yet anyway.

After feeling like he could climb the walls from utter boredom, Clary had finally taken pity on him and told him that Princess Isabelle had asked him to join her for tea if he were available. Assassin or not, Magnus had given the redhead a glare that should’ve incinerated her on the spot. Instead of looking scared or at the very least apologetic, she just smirked at him and said “It’s not my idea of keeping you safe. Her highness has quite the temper, but you’re just making me sad, bored out your mind, so…”, she motioned for him to precede her back to the Palace.

“I hate you”, he grumbled as he walked past her, heading for the royal quarters, and heard her laugh behind him “You’re not so bad yourself, Prince Magnus”

Tea with Isabelle was delightful. She was just the right amount of quirky and irreverent to lift his mood up and get him to relax. Even Clary seemed more at ease in her presence, like the princess had this innate ability to charm people out of their sensibilities. Her wife had joined them after a while, seemingly tired after endless state meetings with her father, and even Jace had come in for jam scones and tea, although Isabelle had teased him mercilessly for being distracted by a certain redhead who suddenly turned shy and blushing. Even Magnus could admit that it was cute. The way the two of them kept stealing glances at each other was adorable, and it made him miss Alexander more, which was utterly ridiculous, since he’d seen the man the night before.

It was probably pointless to try to make sense of his sentiments at this point. He’d given up trying to understand the erratic beating of his heart as soon as those hazel eyes looked into his, or the quickening of his breath as he thought of their time spent together. There was no denying it anymore. Magnus was in love. If Raphael heard him, he’d probably smack him, then tell him to get a clue, and he would be right to. After all, Magnus and Alexander had known each other for barely a few days. It seemed impossible for feelings to develop at this speed, and yet, here he was, utterly smitten by the Emperor to be.

Tea ended around the time Maia and Isabelle decided they needed to get ready for the feast, at which point Clary had promptly informed him that he would not be in attendance. Apparently, it was still a safety hazard. Magnus didn’t argue with her per se. He had no wish to sit in the same room as Camille for an entire meal, anyway, so he joined the kitchen crew, who were delighted to see him.

“Why are they so happy to see you?”, Clary had murmured as they were led to the big oak table in the middle of the room.

“Maybe it’s because I don’t make it a point to antagonize every person I meet”, he threw back sarcastically, and the girl simply threw her head back and laughed, seemingly amused by his constant jabs and veiled threats. She was a weird one to be sure.

The kitchen was a war zone, with dozens of nobles and royals dining before the ceremony, it was complete mayhem. But somehow, there was an order to their chaos. Everyone knew how to run around each other, each doing their task without disturbing the others. The air was jovial, not only with the delicious smells and spices wafting through the air, but with a rampant infectious excitement. Magnus didn’t know what the real cause of it was, but he wanted to believe it was happiness to see their liege crowned tomorrow, as if they too, in their own little way, were celebrating the rise of a great leader, and the thought made him happy, proud.

A sudden bellow rang through the mess “Who forget to cut the lemons? Larry, where in heavens is that boy? If the meal has to be late, I will have his head on a platter, I swear it”, shouted Leo, his usually jolly face red and splotchy with the power of his rage.

“Give it here, Leo, I’ll cut the lemons”, started a young girl in braids, and Leo shook his head “No, you’re on soup duty. Everyone has a job for a reason. Goddamn it, I’m going to kill him”

“I heard that the DuMortians who arrived yesterday demanded he clean their barracks. They said something about it smelling like death”, a sheepish man with thinning hair replied while he stacked warm bread loaves into baskets.

Leo sneered “They’d know the smell of it, wouldn’t they? Hang them all, it’s not his job”

“Come now, Leo. Were you expecting the poor boy to disagree with big burly soldiers? He did what he could”, the girl with the braids said, stirring her pot of soup and dunking a spoon in to taste it.

Suddenly, the redhead sitting next to him stood up and motioned for the big crate of lemons “Give it here, I’ll do it”

Magnus just gave her a surprised glance, not expecting her to point attention to herself. The chatter died down as everybody turned to look at her. From the wary way they glanced at her, Magnus could tell that they felt the aura of danger and power wrapped around her. Well, except for Leo. The old man just looked the assassin up and down and said “Are you quick with a knife?”

Magnus was about to snort out a laugh when Clary unsheathed two daggers strapped to her thighs and swirled them around her thumbs with a grace that could only be acquired from years of handling the blade.

Someone gasped, whereas Leo just arched a brow and said “Those daggers better be clean, girl. I’m not serving my guests filthy food”. It was official! Magnus loved this man.

Clary, as usual, just gifted the head cook her mysterious smirk and nodded.

“Well, get to it. Thin slices, girly! Everybody else, get back to work. Am I running a damn circus here?”, Leo yelled, making everyone jump and run back to their chores.

Two young boys hefted the big crate and brought it to the table where Clary was sitting, and someone brought over a big bowl for her to drop the sliced fruit into.

Even with her superior blade skills, Magnus was impressed with Clary’s chopping skills. She went to work almost like she’d spent her life in the kitchen instead of training at the assassin’s guild. Halfway through the crate, she looked up to find him staring at her, and to Magnus’ eternal surprise, actually blushed.

“What?”, she muttered, lowering her head and focusing on her task.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m surprised”, he admitted, watching her squirm and fidget.

“I… I always liked kitchen duty at the Institute. It was peaceful, chopping up vegetables. It was my favorite time to think”, she said quietly, as if bracing for a mocking reaction.

If it were anyone else, Magnus would’ve probably cracked a joke, but he had a feeling the young assassin didn’t share much with people.

“What did you think about?”, he asked.

Clary shrugged “Mostly how I could get out, how I could save enough to be free”.

Magnus’ heart hurt for the quiet words, told in a tone that tried to hide how precious they were, but Magnus knew better. After all, Clary had given up her entire life just for the promise of said freedom.

“Did you figure it out?”

A harsh laugh burst out of her “I thought I did, many _many_ times, but then I’d always find myself sinking even deeper. It was pointless to hope otherwise after a while, but for some reason, I kept doing so. It’s like in my heart, I knew that one day, I’ll find a way out”

“Alec”, he stated, understanding now why this girl who lived by no principle was willing to play bodyguard to someone she barely knew.

She looked up at him and smiled “Alec”, she echoed.

Dinner service went by in a blur, as every course left the kitchen in a meticulous order that contrasted greatly from the mayhem of the room. Clary and Magnus were served their meals in the kitchen, the first taste testers as every eye waited for their verdict.

Magnus’ moans of delight were not the least bit exaggerated, as he delighted in course after course of decadent meats and fresh produce, sitting in beautiful sauces and cooked with the utmost care. Even stoic Clary next to him couldn’t help a few sounds that escaped her as she devoured her meal. Whoever made the course would dance in place after getting their approval, and then move on to the next task they had. By the time dinner service had finished and the kitchen crew had had their own meal, Magnus’ stomach hurt, both from eating and laughing so much.

Clary was howling at a joke of his when a silence stifled the room. The kitchen crew got up in unison, everyone stumbling over each other as they looked at the doorway, and Magnus frowned as he turned to see what the fuss was about. Alexander had a shoulder leaning against the doorway, looking at the scene with a fond gaze of amusement.

It was Leo who stepped forward, clearing his throat as he addressed Alec “Your Majesty, it’s an honor. How can I help you today?”

Alec waved his hand in dismissal, ordering everyone to go back to their evening and not to pay him any heed, as if that was possible. The man seemed entirely unaware of the power he held over a room the moment he stepped into it. “I’m here to annoy these two traitors”, he motioned to Magnus and Clary, “who left me alone to deal with all those people tonight”

“Hey, that’s all on her. I wanted to attend, but little Miss Bodyguard here didn’t allow it”, Magnus indicated with his thumb at Clary, thoroughly giving her up.

Clary let out an indignant gasp, shoving his shoulder good naturedly “You didn’t want to go to the feast any more than I did. You said you’d rather have dinner in the kitchen”

“Lies! blasphemy! I would never”, Magnus rebutted, the quirk of his mouth giving him away, and Clary just shook her head in amusement, as she looked back at Alexander “Is he always this contrary?”

“You have no idea”, he muttered, making Magnus utter an offended “Hey”.

The staff had left the table at this point, everyone clearing out their stations for the night before they retired to bed, but Magnus could see everyone stealing glances at them, secretive smiles and winks making the rounds. He knew he should stop flirting with Alec in front of his entire kitchen staff, that the rumor mill would run with the unusual Imperial visit to the kitchen and make an entire story out of it, but he just didn’t find it in himself to care right then. He was feeling too relaxed to bother with nervousness. It was the last night before Alec’s coronation, and tomorrow, the entire point would be moot anyway, so he let himself relax into Alexander’s adoring gaze, let his own eyes peruse the man they way they’d wanted to feast on him all day, let their hands touch when Alec made it to the table, dragging a chair to sit right next to him, elbows and knees pressed together. Alec was already deep in conversation with Clary, as she gave him updates on a security detail Magnus hadn’t felt worth being warranted in the first place, but he could feel Alec unwinding the more he heard about their mundane boring day, and his heart skipped a beat. How can he be anything but grateful that this beautiful wonderful man worried about his safety, cared enough to feel anxiety over the thought of anything happening to him? Magnus couldn’t find in his heart the indignation he’d been carrying around all day at being escorted, not when Alec smiled in relief and leaned into him slightly, his eyes twinkling with happiness “So, first you won over the staff, and now even tough old Clary is your best buddy?”, he teased, his hand reaching under the table to hold his knee.

Magnus could feel his feelings turning toward something a bit more primitive, as his blood rushed south at the possessive grip, even as he forced himself to speak “She had too much fun messing with me to be considered my best buddy”, he replied, giving the assassin a mock glare that she received with a grin “I think I’m growing on him, Alec. We’re basically inseparable”

Alec just laughed. “Fiend. Someone has been looking for you all evening by the way”, he quipped, eyes bright with mirth as Clary’s teasing façade dropped and a blush covered her neck, red splotches adorning the apples of her cheeks.

“Oh?”, she said nonchalantly.

“Yes, Oh”, Alec laughed, “Come on now, who are you kidding with the act? Get out of here, he was still in the dining hall as I came to find you”

He had to give credit to the fact that the fierce warrior was instantly back in place, as she assessed Magnus with a critical eye “What about His Highness?”

Magnus grumbled as he rolled his eyes. They were starting to make him feel like an invalid “His Highness can get back to his room without you holding his hand, Clary”

Alec chuckled and assured her “His Highness will be escorted right to his door, I promise”

Clary smirked at him “Big of you. Great hardship indeed, _Alexander_ ”

Magnus was about to hit her with something, but Alec, the idiot, just laughed and shooed her away “Go away before I have you thrown in the gallows”

“Well, we don’t want that”, she replied primly, rising and winking at them “Goodnight, you two”

“Goodnight”, they echoed, watching her disappear through the doorway Alec had come through. It was only then that Magnus realized that everyone had cleared out. For such a rowdy bunch, they sure knew how to slither out undetected, but then again, Magnus thought, they’d had plenty of experience blending in the background.

“Did you have a good day?”, Alec asked, drawing him out of his thoughts.

“It would’ve been better if I could have spent it doing something productive instead of roaming around, but I suppose it was more pleasant than yours”, he replied, skimming the dark shadows under Alec’s eyes with his thumb. Alec’s eyes closed at the gentle touch, savoring it, and then opened with a fond look in them that stalled Magnus’ breath in his lungs. He was so gone for him, it was pathetic. The words were right there on the tip of his tongue, but he held them back. There was so much left in the air, so many variables to consider for his confession to be considered anything but a shackle and a burden at this point. So, he just smiled congenially and asked him about his day.

He couldn’t tell you how long they spent sitting at that table, the sound of their laughter echoing in the cavern of the humongous room, but it was only the flickering of the almost dying candle and Alec’s constant yawns of fatigue that finally prompted them to call it a night.

Despite Alec tempting him immensely, and how hard it was to refuse that handsome face as it begged him morosely, Magnus elected to go back to his room. Tomorrow was Alexander’s big day, and he needed the rest. As they reached Magnus’ bedroom, he leaned against the closed door and looked at the kicked puppy gazing at him. He couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of him.

“Would you stop looking at me like that?”

“I’m not doing anything”, Alec sulked.

“Bull crap”, Magnus muttered under his breath, and Alec chuckled “You and your bull crap”

He moved to open the door, and Magnus stilled him with a hand eclipsing his “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Checking your room for intruders”

“Oh no you don’t. If you get inside this room, you know damn well you’re not leaving and you need to rest”

“Don’t be absurd. I’m just going to check really quick”, Alec denied, looking almost offended, but Magnus knew better. He recognized the mischievous gleam on his face.

“Alexander Gideon Lightwood III, go to bed”, Magnus said on a laugh, and Alec just sighed and leaned down for a goodnight kiss.

“You are no fun”, he muttered against his lips.

“I am plenty of fun, just when you don’t have the busiest day of your life tomorrow”

“See you in the morning?”

“You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried”

He may have watched him until he disappeared down the hall, admiring his strapping form and just staring, his chest rattling with a deep sigh of happiness and his stomach turning with the swarm of butterflies that seemed to take flight whenever he so much as thought of Alec. Still smiling, Magnus pushed open his door, and immediately, the butterflies dropped, because something was definitely wrong.

The only light was coming from the hallway behind him, but it was the cloying sweetness in the air that let him know that he was not alone. He rued sending Alexander away, slightly afraid that he really wouldn’t make it through the night, when a voice he’d only heard in his nightmares recently spoke from the shadows, like nails on a chalkboard, like the fingers of dread sending chills down his spine.

 “Looks like the innocent little rabbit learned some new tricks, didn’t it, Magnus?”, Camille’s shrill voice echoed in the room, and Magnus widened the gap in the door until the effusive light cast a shadow on her form, where she lounged on his bed, red robes pooling around her like blood, looking relaxed as if she had been willing to wait on him all night.

He would be a liar if he attempted to pretend that his breathing didn’t alter his rhythm, that his heart didn’t stutter in his chest, or that sweat didn’t bead on his cool forehead instantly. The only thing that maybe stopped him from spinning into another panic attack was the bite of his fingernails on his palm from the tight fist at his side. His bravado was draining remarkably fast in such close proximity.

“Camille”, he croaked out, voice breaking pathetically in the quiet of the room.

“It took you long enough. I almost thought the snake you had following you all day had had enough and killed you or something”, she said, the quirk of her lip only slightly visible in the gloom.

Unable to handle a conversation with only the faint light for company, he forced himself to move deeper into the room and light the candles on his nightstand. Camille’s eyes followed him, her amusement both a stifling gag and a painful reminder. He’d always remember her provoking smirk when he woke up drenched in sweat, his nightmares haunting him in those first moments, the maddening sound of her laughter as the guards’ fists pounded into him a faint echo in his ears.

The light from the candles brightened the room, making Magnus breathe a little bit easier as he turned to have a proper look at the intruder. He’d been bracing himself for a meeting with Camille ever since Alec had told him she was coming, dreading and worrying and thinking up a hundred different things that he wanted to say, a hundred proclamations about how he’d survived, how she hadn’t been able to break him. Looking at her now, Magnus’ words fled, leaving him flailing. She looked exactly the same. Seeing her up close was different than the figure of her gliding through the courtyard the day before. Up close, he could see her long mane of dark hair, almost shining in the candlelight, her almond shaped eyes with a fire in them that he’d long ago mistaken for passion, but that merely stood for the madness she harbored within. The sharp angles of her faces that he’d thought to be exotic, unique, the slender form of her, draped across his bed like she belonged there. A shiver went through him. If she’d had her way, she would have. It was that last thought that sobered him up enough to cross his arms across his chest and ask evenly “What are you doing here, Camille?”

An imperious brow arched at his inquiry “Can’t I say hello to an old friend? Given our history, I thought it only polite”

Magnus could feel his lip curl back in disgust. Everything was a joke, a tease, a power play when it came to her. “Hardly”, he muttered, “Given our history, you should be imprisoned somewhere dark and damp, but I guess we can’t always have what we want”

Camille had the audacity to laugh “Well, I can. That’s always been the difference between the two of us. I always got what I wanted”

Magnus’ pulse went into overdrive, not at all liking the gleam in her eyes as she said those words, her gaze travelling over him like a prize that she’d own soon enough.

“It’s late, Camille. Do we have to play these stupid games right now?”, he changed the subject, trying to put up an indifferent façade to counter the bile that was slowly rising in his stomach.

“Well, we could have done them earlier, but you were otherwise busy, suspiciously so”, she said, rising from her relaxed position to sit up at the edge of his bed. “Tell me, Magnus, however did you manage to make a trained assassin your obedient lapdog? Nifty trick, I must admit. The bitch sure didn’t listen to orders when I gave them”

He couldn’t keep a leash on his temper then “Are you insane? Did you finally go mad with the illusion of power? You tried to have the Emperor murdered in his own home?”

A snarl marred her pretty features “He’s not emperor yet”

“But he will be, and that’s your issue. He will be more powerful, and there is nothing you can do about it. I don’t even understand what it is you were trying to accomplish with this stupidity. It’s not like you were next in line for the throne”

“You’ve always been shortsighted, Magnus. Nobody was next in line, you fool. That was the point”, she pointed out, and Magnus realized with a start that she was right. Isabelle had already abdicated her right to succession when she’d married Maia and Max was gone. There were no cousins, no distant relations to the Lightwoods. The Empire would’ve crumbled into chaos.

“So, you were going to kill an innocent man, just to ensure utter mayhem? Do you even hear how insane this plan of yours is?”, his voice was going shrill with rage, but he couldn’t help it. She was mental.

“Innocent?”, she snarled, eyes alive with the flame of hatred she kept stoking in her twisted mind. “His entire line isn’t innocent. They took our countries as trophies to expand their territory, and then expected us to bow down and follow as they used us and abused us incessantly. Tell me why the Lightwood brat gets to sit on a throne that allows him to toy with my people as he sees fit. What right to lead does he have other than his lineage and the bodily fluids of the man who sired him?”

The words echoed inside Magnus with a resounding sound, mostly because he recognized them as eerily similar to the things he’d asked Meliorn not a long time ago. He couldn’t blame Camille for wanting to be free from the clutches of the Empire, not when he saw the state of his own country, but he could blame her for the way she went about it. He could blame her for thinking that her strive for freedom was more valuable than Alexander’s life.

“It is his right, Camille. That’s how succession goes”, he said evenly, his ire somewhat slowing as he started to understand her motivation.

“Well, it shouldn’t. Power isn’t handed, it is earned, and that spoiled brat who spent his entire life knowing no hardships deserves none of it”

Magnus recalled all that Camille had done to “earn” her power, and felt his insides twist with dread.

“Camille’, he started carefully, cautious not to let his suspicions slip, “I understand that the DuMortian way has meant that you’ve had to work twice as hard as everyone to get where you are, and I know it must’ve been hard to…”

“Don’t you dare condescend to me”, she hissed, her rage bubbling up as she clutched the bedding on either side of her in a death grip, and Magnus knew that he’d made a mistake trying to calm her. “Unlike you, I’ve always understood that power comes with sacrifice. I’ve done what had to be done”

She let out a disgusted chuckle that had the hairs on his body stand up at attention. “You know, I actually thought that you’d changed a bit. I came here to congratulate you on finally stepping up. When Azazel told me about your deal, I thought the old fool with childish ideals had grown up into a prince who was ready to assume his power. But I guess I was wrong. You’re still the same man who never understood the greater picture”

Magnus went cold all over, his knees trembling with the effort of keeping him standing up. His mind was swirling with panic, and his words just wouldn’t form cohesive sentences that he could utter. No, no, no, this was not supposed to happen. She was not supposed to know. He was supposed to have more time than this.

“What’s the matter, Magnus? Cat got your tongue? Where’s your rightful indignation now, huh?”, Camille quipped, her blood red lips stretching in a predatory smile, knowing she had just cornered him. She got up slowly, menacingly, and reduced the distance between them, until her scent engulfed his senses. An elegant finger rose to trace a line down his arm, leaving chills instead “You shouldn’t have ignored me for the past few days, Magnus. It really just gave Azazel more time to tell me all about your little bout of mischief”. Her fake sympathy grated on his nerves as she gazed at him “How come I’ve never been offered wildfire during our betrothal, Magnus? I thought you loved me”

The reminder of his past feelings felt like a slap on the face, a wakeup call from the sluggishness that had enveloped his mind since she’d uttered Azazel’s name. His veins felt like they were filled with tar, his entire being slowing in dread. He finally croaked out a pathetic “I never loved you”

Camille laughed in delight, like she was having great fun “That wasn’t what I remember. Wasn’t it what you used to cry when my guards tried to beat some sense into you?”

It was like her words were having the opposite effect of what she hoped to achieve. With every memory she invoked of his time with her, he only remembered Alexander’s words as he told him over and over that he was worth it, that he was better and stronger and more resilient than all she had done to him. It was like a magnetic charge coursing through him, providing him with enough strength to shrug off her poisonous touch and straighten his stance “I doubt you’re here to reminisce about our time together, Camille. What do you want? What did you offer Azazel?”

Camille arched a brow, apparently impressed with his self-control and waved her hand dismissively “I didn’t have to offer him anything. That slimy old oaf would betray his own hide if it meant causing trouble. He knew that I could do what he couldn’t, and from what I heard, you pissed him off enough that he came to me. Well done, you”, she said in delight.

“And what’s that? That you can do”

“Get you to heel, of course”

“I’m not a dog, Camille, and I don’t have to do anything for you”

“Oh, but you do, Magnus, because you know as well as I do that your meeting with Azazel is grounds for treason. After all, play with wildfire, and the whole of Edom burns”

It took all his willpower not to strangle her, even as the implications of what she meant hit him full force. This was bad. This was really bad. If she had threatened him with his own well-being, Magnus would bear the consequences in a blink, but she was threatening his people, innocents who had no hand in the political struggle between his father and Alicante, and he knew that she was right. Idris could wage war against Edom, not only for the attempt at treason, but for harboring and mining weapons of war under their noses for generations. All because Magnus had met with a disgusting pig and later regretted it.

“Imagine what our esteemed Emperor will think when I tell him about your illicit meeting. Imagine his shock when he finds out that his trusted companion was simply bidding his time to overthrow him”

The thought of the betrayal on Alec’s face was enough to bring Magnus to his knees. They’d barely started and now Camille was threatening the one thing that had become essential to his survival.

“You tried to have him killed, Camille. I doubt he’ll be willing to listen to your nonsense”, he tried to argue.

“True, but he has no proof of that”

“Neither do you”

Camille actually laughed, a deranged slightly mad cackle that told him that this push and pull, this feeling of playing with her pray was the most fun she was having in a while. She clapped her hands in glee and bobbed her head from side to side, dark locks tumbling over her shoulder as she said “True, but tell me, dear, if Lightwood were to send a platoon of his soldiers to the mines of Edom, wouldn’t there be enough proof to destroy the Empire?”

Checkmate. He knew right then that he was trapped, and from the smile on her face, Camille knew it as well. She awaited his reaction with baited breath, probably expecting hysterics and someone who will grovel at her feet, but Magnus had had numbness and silence beaten into him years before, at her own hands. She’d taught him to never give her the satisfaction of seeing him hurt, never giving her the power to know where it ached the most.

“What is it you want, Camille? Your cackles are becoming tedious”, he said evenly, his entire being already starting to feel the sweet deliverance of numbness, the cold invading his veins and slowing his heart rate.

Camille tsked and shook her finger at him “Is that any way to speak to your future wife?”

Out of all the things she could have said, Magnus hadn’t expected that. The panic her words could’ve conjured was mired by the cold that had descended upon him as he rebutted “We’re no longer engaged”

“Oh, but that’s my price, you see. You may have ruined my plans a few years ago, but I must commend you for mucking up so badly as to give me leverage against your father again”. She started pacing the room, already making plans, as his mind whirled with the direness of the situation that he was in. He was doomed. He’d made it out, moved on, only to be pulled back into the same pit from which he’d escaped. There was no Raphael to smuggle him in the night, no evidence which could protect him. He was utterly and truly doomed.

Camille continued, unaware of his racing thoughts “We’ll attend the coronation since I can’t be bothered to start a war with Lightwood so soon after that incompetent assassin failed, and then we’ll travel back to DuMort together. After our marriage, you father and I will work out an arrangement to join our forces. With the wildfire on my side, the scales just tipped heavily in my favor”

He could already see it, being back to that dark tower she had him locked up in, only allowed to send messages to his father to assure him that all was well, that he’d reconnected with the monster who haunted his dreams and had promptly fell back in love with her. He’d rather get stung by Edomai scorpions or find himself on the sharp end of a Forsaken blade.

“What about Azazel?”, he asked in a hollow voice, the numbness completely embracing him now.

“Let me worry about the old cad. If he can’t keep his mouth shut, I’ll keep it shut for him”

“Let me guess, the same way you shut it for Rebecca Lewis”. He shouldn’t have said it. Even as the words left his mouth, he knew he shouldn’t have said them, but where he expected panic, threats and horror at being discovered, Camille just looked at him, looking slightly impressed, and another look in her eyes that he was too disgusted to decipher. She glided back to his personal space, her nail tracing the line of his jaw as she gave him what she probably considered a seductive glance “Look at you, turning over old stones. What do you know? Maybe we’ll have some fun with this arrangement, you and I”

Feeling the tight hold that he had on himself start to slip as bile rose in his throat, he swatted her hand away and motioned to the door “You made your point, and said your piece. Now, leave, before I forcibly remove you”

Camille smirked and surprisingly, went without struggle, muttering a sarcastic “So testy” under her breath.

The second the door closed after her, Magnus’ knees gave out, and he dropped to the rug at his feet, the trembling of his limbs the only indication that the numbness was departing as swiftly as it had come. His overwrought brain couldn’t decide what to focus on first, the implications of her threats, the bleak future that awaited him, or the calamity of both; How with one conversation, she had destroyed all the hope that he’d built in his heart lately.

It took a moment for the panic to recede, for the calm to invade his body and let his thoughts settle into a resemblance of a solution. It was not ideal. It was far from perfect, but it was his only salvation.

He thought back on his days in Idris, and then on the past three years he’d spent in Edom, simply going through the motions, and finally, his declaration at Max’s memorial. He was a prince of Edom, and it was time that he started acting like it. It was not time to run from the truth of his actions. Despite her evil ways, Camille was right about one thing. Actions, power, those were things that demanded sacrifice, and saving his people the pain of having to deal with the Empire’s ire wasn’t worth sacrificing for, then what was? Magnus braced himself and got up off the rug, already setting up a game plan. Camille was right, but she was also wrong. That was the only truth he knew for sure, that she was wrong about him, and about Alexander, and about the greater picture. He saw it clearly, he just refused to burn the picture to the ground to raise another. He settled into bed for a long sleepless night. He knew what he had to do.

* * *

 

Alec looked at himself in the mirror, and was astonished to see an Emperor looking back at him. It wasn’t the formal ceremonial coat, the golden medals of his rank and position. It wasn’t even the thin bejeweled Emperor’s blade strapped to his belt. It was something about him, something that had intrinsically settled into place. Looking at his reflection, he could actually tell that he was ready. It was in the set of his mouth, in the squaring of his shoulders, in the determination blazing in his eyes. Today, Alec was taking his rightful place.

Throughout his entire life, he had always considered his duty an inevitable outcome. He had never questioned his ability to be up to the task, simply because he never felt like he had any alternative to consider. He was to bear the weight of the crown, and that was it. Whether he had what it took to handle the job was irrelevant. It had always been. Lately, however, he had been put through many trials where he had to step back and ask himself: Can I do this? Can I keep my people safe? Can I be the man they need to lead them? Will I be able to maintain peace, be fair, rule justly? Will I be worthy of their trust? The answers had been mired in feelings Alec had never had to untangle, but right then, standing in front of his mirror, his thoughts were finally clear, his mind made up, his heart resolute.

His occasional valet, Raj, fluttered around him, probably aware that this would be the most important task of his career, preparing the Emperor for his coronation, but Alec tuned him out, focusing on his breathing, and thinking of what the day would bring with it. He never thought he’d say this, but he was excited.

A slight knock on the door alerted Raj, and he made for the door, probably to shoo away whoever had dared disturb such a monumental moment as this. He probably would have let him, if he hadn’t heard a voice that sent his heart fluttering.

“It’s alright, Raj. Let him through”, he interrupted; ignoring the man’s disgruntled expression, as Magnus came into view.

Angels above, but he was splendid. He looked like the prince in a fairytale, regal, strong, beautiful beyond belief. Black coat that fell to mid-shin, embroidered in gold, with a stiff collar that did nothing to hide that graceful neck. White trousers that peaked from the slits, and black boots complemented the simple but lethal look.

Alec was about to make a comment when he noticed his valet still fidgeting by the door. “You may go, Raj. I’ll call for you if I need anything further”

The man looked like he was about to protest, before he looked at the two of them and simply bowed, closing the door firmly behind him. Magnus followed him until the door settled into place, before turning to Alec with a teasing glint in his eye “Is it just me or was your valet jealous just now?”

“It’s just you”, Alec said with a straight face, his heart nearly melting at the bright smile Magnus gave him in return.

“Liar”, he muttered, moving deeper into the room, “I wouldn’t be surprised if the poor man has been harboring a crush on you for years. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if half the staff hasn’t pined for His Majesty at a certain point in time”

Alec scoffed, ignoring the heat he could feel on his cheeks “You’re ridiculous”

“And you’re beautiful”, the cheeky man volleyed back, his eyes running over Alec’s figure like a warm summer breeze.

“You are in rare form, this morning”, Alec observed, his cheeks getting hotter, the warmth spreading through his limbs.

Magnus just smiled cheekily and waggled his eyebrows “I am also right”. He sobered, though his eyes still maintained their comforting warmth, and said “Seriously, Alexander. You look magnificent. Every inch the Emperor”

“Thank you”, Alec croaked through suddenly dry lips, “You look very handsome as well”

Magnus winked at him and curtsied slightly “Thank you, Your Majesty. It’s not every day that I get to kneel before my future liege. I wanted to look memorable”

_As if anyone could ever forget you_ , Alec thought, but didn’t say. He tugged nervously at his cufflinks, swallowing the words and teased “Are you here to wish me good luck?”

Instead of causing Magnus to laugh as expected, the words seemed to instill a sudden inexplicable sadness in him. His happy-go-lucky disposition vanished as he moved to the window, looking down on one of the gardens.

“Actually, I came to talk to you about something. It can’t really wait”

Alec frowned, his stomach coiling with tension as he took a seat on the padded chair by his bed. He had a feeling he was going to need it.

“Alright, you’ve managed to thoroughly scare me. What is it, Magnus?”, he said gently.

“Before I say anything, I want you to know that I meant every word I’ve said to you. I may have omitted some facts, but I’ve never lied to you. I need you to believe that”

Alec could feel his brows notch as he thought of the ominous declaration. He waited for him to continue, but Magnus looked back at him expectantly, as if waiting for his answer. Alec nodded hesitantly, unsure what exactly he was agreeing to.

Magnus licked his lips, and started “My father has never really liked the authority of Idris. He especially disliked the way the Crown handled the southern countries. When your father passed, he saw an opportunity to cause discord, to start some form of rebellion. I… I doubt he even had a solid plan in mind. I think he just wanted change, to let the dice fall where it may, as long as it wasn’t in Alicante’s favor”

Alec’s head started hurting again, the feeling of dread getting more and more prominent, as he listened to an introduction that promised no good. It didn’t help that Magnus wasn’t meeting his eyes. Instead, his kept flitting to the gardens outside, like he would prefer to be anywhere but here.

“He sent me to do his bidding, and, you have to understand, Alexander, I couldn’t refuse him. I felt like I owed him for saving me from Camille. I felt like it was the price I had to pay”

“Just spit it out, Magnus”, Alec muttered, done with the suspense of it.

Magnus’ shoulders slumped, and he turned his head to look straight into Alec’s eyes, forcing himself to power through it “I was to offer the leaders of the Empire ammunition of wildfire in exchange for their vow of allegiance”

Alec’s head was filled with white noise, static that blurred his thoughts together until only one word filtered through, over and over and over again. Enemy. Enemy. _Enemy. Enemy. ENEMY. ENEMY. ENEMY._

Feeling a cold draft seeping from his heart, like a chasm had been opened inside to chase away the warmth he was feeling a few minutes ago, Alec asked through numb lips “I thought that Edom no longer had any wildfire?”, and Magnus flinched, looking down at his fidgeting hands, as his mouth opened and closed over words he seemed reluctant to share.

“That’s a misconception created by generations of Edomai rulers. The mines didn’t really dry out”

“So, what you’re telling me is that your country has been manufacturing illegal explosives for the past century at the very least?”

Maybe Magnus had noted the detached tone of his voice, because he looked up, his eyes deep pools of regret as he swallowed roughly “Yes”

Alec couldn’t help it. He chuckled as he dropped his face into his hands, his fists rubbing into the sockets of his eyes as his brain tried to rewire itself to stop screaming the same goddamned word at him. Alright, he could accept that Magnus had little to do with his ancestors’ decision to hide illicit dealings from him. After all, his own father had buried a monarch’s death simply because it didn’t serve his own agenda. The logical part of his brain told him that unlike Magnus, he’d had no idea about his father’s secret, and had shared with Magnus promptly upon knowing it, but his heart told him to grant Magnus the benefit of the doubt.

“Did you do your father’s bidding, then?”, he asked tiredly, and Magnus shook his head furiously.

“No, you have to believe me, Alec. Almost immediately upon my arrival, I decided that the destruction and subsequent chaos that would stem from his idiotic plan weren’t worth it. Plus, I didn’t know you when I agreed to the ploy. I didn’t know that you were fair and just and looking to mend the same bridges I wanted to build. I couldn’t possibly go through with it”

The words should’ve soothed Alec’s nerves, made him grateful that Magnus was telling him about this foiled attempt at causing dissent, but Alec couldn’t help but focus on the tremor he could see in Magnus’ hands, the sense of dread still circling around him. It was not that of a man who had confessed a sin and felt better for it, it was that of a man still bracing for disaster.

All of a sudden, Alec felt so cold, so… alone. All he could think about was the name on his wrist, the one his thumb kept skimming. He’d always believed it a matter of time before his third bond snapped into place, the first two already done with, explained, but what if, that wasn’t it? What if Isabelle and Jace were wrong and an enemy remained an enemy in the most elemental sense of the word? What if his love band hadn’t shown because it wasn’t meant to? What if he had been filling his head with stupid dreams and insipid illusions simply to quench the thirst he’d felt for a connection?

No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t deny the probability of his words. It wasn’t as if he could trust his own judgment. No, his judgement had proved itself futile when it had chosen to believe words instead of hard solid facts. His judgement had believed Magnus to be exactly the man he had said to be. What did it say about Magnus that he had joined his father’s scheme in the first place? And what did it say about him that he still had the urge to ignore all the facts laid before him and assure this man that everything was alright?

“Nothing happened then? Nobody knows except you and your father?”, he asked slowly, silently begging Magnus to give him a reason to hold onto.

“Not exactly”, Magnus croaked out, making Alec raise his head to look up at him. He’d gone pale, from dread or regret, Alec could not tell, but the contrast between his skin and his dark clothes was comical, making him look like an inhumane version of himself, the only thing keeping it standing was the windowpane against which it leaned.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I…met with Azazel upon my arrival. It was his overzealous enthusiasm for the idea that actually made me revisit my decision, and I couldn’t go through with it”, Magnus offered apologetically, running his hands through his hair, making it stick up in a hundred different directions.

Well, that explained Azazel’s slimy behavior the other night. God, that man will never stop being such a creep. Alec would however make note of his flimsy loyalty. It was good to know his enemies firsthand.

He fought the urge to laugh hysterically at the asinine statement. Here he was, talking about being aware of his enemies, when he’d ignored the world’s most obvious sign. He could almost hear his father’s favorite words in his ears. “Oh Alec, when will you stop being so naïve?”, he would say constantly, his disappointment a cloud that accompanied Alec through his formative years. It appeared that he wasn’t wrong.

He’d been so certain that he was ready to lead and to hold an entire Empire together mere minutes ago, when a wealth of conspiracies and secrets lay around him, with him none the wiser.

“When I explicitly told him that I would not be providing him with any ammunition, he chose to share the details of our meeting with… with Camille. She confronted me about it yesterday when we parted ways”, Magnus continued, unaware of the turmoil Alec’s thoughts brought, turmoil that vanished upon hearing those last words.

“Oh, I see”, he muttered, feeling the remaining pieces of his heart shrivel up into a block of ice.

“W- What?”, Magnus asked nervously.

“You’re not telling me this because you feel remorse or because it was the right thing to do. You’re telling me because you got caught”

Magnus stammered out “No, that’s not true. Yes, maybe the timing of it was because Camille is basically holding an axe over my head, but I planned to tell you eventually”

“How convenient”, Alec snarled, the deep blade of betrayal cutting through him so deeply he found it hard to draw breath. “How convenient it is that you were going to tell me, had not your evil ex shown up and sped up the process. What did she threaten you with, Magnus? Another kidnapping, or were those just more lies?”

Magnus straightened from the wall and looked at him wide shocked eyes. What did he have to be shocked about? He wasn’t the one being dealt blow after blow. He wasn’t the one who was getting the rug swept from underneath him when he’d finally found a north?

“You don’t mean that”, Magnus said softly, his eyes twin pools of need, begging for understanding and forgiveness. Alec didn’t want to understand. He spent his entire life trying to understand the curse of his circumstances. He just wanted to hurt him like he was hurting.

“Don’t I? Tell me, Magnus, why should I believe a single word that comes out of your mouth right now?”, he said harshly, and Magnus flinched, before taking a step towards him.

Alec involuntarily took a step back and Magnus stopped, a look of pure pain going through his face. “Alexander, please believe me. I didn’t lie to you. By the time I came to you with the deal to help each other out, I had already decided that I wasn’t going through with my father’s plan. I’ve been honest with you through all of it. I still am. I want to help you. I want us to help each other. I’m sorry I kept this from you, but it was a moot point”

The nerve of him, the audacity! “You don’t get to decide that. You don’t get to decide what’s important or not. I have responsibilities to consider, I have people to think of, and you keeping not only one, but two potential enemies from me, makes you just as guilty as they are”

“Then put me in prison, Alexander. If it’s going to make you feel better, put me in the gallows. I’ll await my verdict there, as long you’re willing to listen”

Listen to what? Listen to more lies and more pretty words and less truths? He thought back on the kisses they’d shared and the ache almost made him crumple on the ground. He’d been a fool to think that he could have everything he’d ever wanted. Here he was, thinking of flowery words, and love and romance, and as usual, he’d had his head in the clouds. He’d been a fool to disregard what he’d always known to be true, that he was cursed to never have what he most desired, and what he most desired was for Magnus to be the man he’d believed him to be. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

Maybe if Alec at that moment, had been able to see past his own personal hell, he would see that Magnus was crumbling same as he, broken and beaten and defeated. Maybe if Alec had been able to just forget about the word running incessantly through his mind and focus on the words coming out of Magnus’ mouth instead, he would be able to hear the ringing truth in his words, the remorse and chagrin he harbored so deeply, the pure innocence of him still shining through, but right then, Alec was stuck in his own worst nightmare, the threat of his own weakness and naivety hanging over him like a noose, taunting him with his own shortcomings. Right then, Alec wanted to be selfish. He wanted to forget about understanding anyone’s pain and only focusing on processing his own. Magnus’ words became a drone in the background, white noise that his fried nerves couldn’t even attempt to decipher. His eyes were flitting everywhere, trying to find something to hold onto, and surprisingly, they fell on the clock nestled on his nightstand. He merely had half an hour before the biggest moment of his life, and he wanted to curl up and cry instead. It seemed fitting to how the rest of his life usually went.

He couldn’t go out into the public like this, not with so many roaming eyes and pointed stares and poisonous guests in his Court. He needed to put himself back together, and he couldn’t do it with Magnus still in the room. Just the sight of him made Alec want to throw something against the wall, so in a voice he didn’t recognize, a voice that would later be known as his Emperor voice, he harshly said “I need you to leave”

The words settled in the room like a gong, and Alec realized that he’d cut Magnus off mid-stream. He didn’t know what the man was saying, but from the look of utter desolation on his face, the words had come at an inopportune moment. It didn’t matter, though. None of it did. All that did was the upcoming coronation, the people who depended on him, so he repeated in his toughest tenor, making sure to put all his conviction in the words “I need you to leave”

Magnus looked at him then, silent, eyes tracing his frame like he was committing it to memory, and then he stood at attention, a mask of pure ice coming over his face, and Alec wanted to punch himself in the face for feeling a twinge of pain at the sight. He bowed low, and said in an innocuous tone that perfectly masked his feelings “Certainly, Your Majesty”

Shards of ice settled into the chasms in Alec’s heart, and he watched as Magnus strode to the door and stopped, turning slightly and leaving with one parting shot “I understand that my father and I may be on your list of enemies right now, but I’m begging you. Whatever your punishment, our people are innocent”

If Alec thought that his heart had been breaking before, it had nothing on the utter agony those words ripped through him. It appeared that Magnus didn’t know him anymore than he knew Magnus. He had to blink a few times to stop his eyes from welling up. How did they come to this… to this moment where Magnus would need to even say those words out loud? He just looked at him steadily, unable to drum up a reaction, and Magnus turned his head defeatedly, closing the door gently behind him. Somehow, that felt worse than slamming it in anger.

Alec greeted his old friend, silence. Blessed silence. Cursed silence. He looked at himself in the mirror, and was chagrined to see nothing but a man looking back.

* * *

 

Clary Fairchild knew how to read a room. Even before it was a skill of her job, it had been a tool of survival. Reading the room meant anticipating her parents’ fights before fists and chairs started flying. Reading the room meant knowing when to blend into the shadows to avoid being noticed, being seen.

When she’d joined the guild, reading the room had become intrinsic to her life, it had become the one thing that could mean the difference between a job well done, and a coffin in the middle of nowhere. Reading people however, was a more sophisticated skillset, and one she prided herself on mastering. She read inflections like an open book, jerks of the chin or flicks of the eye paragraphs for her senses to absorb. She could deduce when her mark was getting antsy, scared, or feeling oblivious to the finite moments he had to live.

Ever since she had set foot in Alicante however, she had realized that her skillset needed a lot of sharpening. If she were feeling generous, she’d let Valentine know that to train his pupils on the art of body language, he should send them to royal courts, but Clary didn’t owe him any favors. The game plan was on a whole different level here. Unlike the street urchins and mundane crime lords, people from the underbelly of the continent she was used to studying, Clary found herself in the middle of diplomats and nobility, people whose every move had been calculated since birth. In a place full of wealth, it was ironic that no move was ever for free. If someone gasped, it was for an effect, if they twitched, it was to send a message. Their mouths moved with words that their bodies didn’t say, and what made them more fascinating to Clary than anything was their stillness. They stood unnaturally still, in their regalia and bejeweled outfits, statues of gold and silver, weighing the consequences of every crack they showed in their armor.

She had studied them, night by night as she stayed in the palace, relaxed on the rafters of the high ceiling, or peaking from a hatch that was obscured by the evening dark. As they attended their lively balls and ridiculously intricate feasts, Clary had made note of their every move. They may have been trained from birth, but no mere mortal could hide much in the revelry of wine. And so, they drank, and they loosened up, and they let slip secrets and lies their sober selves would be appalled to know had been divulged. It was how she knew that she’d found a predestined place in the world with a golden-haired boy who looked at her with stars in his eyes, and made her feel like stars could burst in her heart. It was how she’d come to know that King Azazel lorded something over Prince Magnus’ head, how she knew that Commander Raphael was stupid in love with his valet, how she knew that Princess Maia and Princess Isabelle were thinking of starting a family, how she knew that Prince Meliorn was sleeping with Commander Branwell, and how she knew that Steven Underhill had broken that poor DuMortian guard’s heart, Quinn or something. There was nothing Clary loved more than to observe. Her fingers itched to paint the pictures they made up, these poor creatures all mired in their own brand of misery, each one drowning in a cesspool of his own vile vices, unaware that other people who were a mere foot away, were drowning even faster in theirs. But Clary’s fingers had long ago lost their touch with a brush. In its stead, Clary held blades and instruments of torture, weapons by which to destroy and not to create. Her days of creating were far behind her.

It was probably the reason why Alexander Lightwood had seemed so different to her. He had all the tools in his hand to destroy. Hell, he’d been trained the same as she, conditioned since birth to live in the dark shadow of his responsibility, and somehow, he still tried to break the cycle of destruction. He still tried to instill peace and kindness, even when he received none in kind. Clary was proof enough of it. She’d tried to kill him, and he’d offered her freedom for it. Out of all the fascinating specimens Clary had met on her trip, Alec remained the most elusive. He was a vault that had cracked and withered with time, tragedies pounding away at its armor, until it sat, sturdy and still standing, but from which feelings and secrets leaked in a steady minuscule stream. It wasn’t obvious to most people, but to Clary, it was abundantly clear. He always felt like a ticking bomb, so alive with feelings, so drenched with life that it made Clary feel like she was basking in the warmth of a fiery hearth. He inspired a feeling of safety that she had long ago thought to be extinct. It was probably why Prince Magnus bloomed around him like a flower, gently tilting its petals to the sunlight.

There was something that attracted survivors to each other, a sense of loss of their innocent selves, a sense of renewed purpose to never fall into their situations again. She wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but she recognized it in Prince Magnus. He felt as familiar to her as her own heart, and from Alec’s insistence that she accompany the prince everywhere, it wasn’t hard to guess the cause. She looked across the crowded room to where Her Majesty, Queen of DuMort sat on a gilded chair, her signature red manifested in a floor length ceremonial dress, pooling around her like the blood of her enemies, her pose that of a liege on their throne. She seemed unbothered by the happenings, as if she witnessed the crowning of Emperors every day of the week, and twice on Sunday. A lazy smirk lifted the corner of her mouth, and despite her blasé attitude, Clary had the feeling that she was aware of all the chatter and whispers around her. She would make a great assassin, she thought ruefully. Her thirst for violence would make her one of Valentine’s most effective soldiers, but she lacked self-restraint, and heaps of it. Clary had noticed it when she’d been commissioned by her, her eyes alight with a ravenous need for immediate action that in retrospect did nothing but hinder her own plans.

As if feeling eyes on her, Camille looked up and gazed straight at Clary, simmering with a penchant for retribution. Clary couldn’t help her smile. Maybe when Alec managed to pay off her father, she’d ask him for a loan to send Camille the price of her commission back. It would unlikely be enough to satisfy her, but it sure would amuse Clary plenty. Because she liked living life with a mark on her back apparently, Clary tilted her head in salute to the queen, who gave her a disgusted glance that would make plenty of people soil their pants. Clary had grown up with meaner mugs than hers. A glance wasn’t going to cut it.

Her Majesty looked away first, but Clary couldn’t even feel any amount of satisfaction from the fact, because Camille’s line of vision took her back to her object of fascination for the hour, one that made Clary grind her molars in frustration. She didn’t like the way Camille was looking at Prince Magnus, a cloud of possessiveness emanating from her gaze. She had a gleam in her eyes as she watched him that told Clary that she had already won a game she wasn’t privy to, and as a guardian, it made her feel antsy.

Prince Magnus himself looked like he was attending a funeral, stiff and uncomfortable in his black formal coat as opposed to the graceful way he usually held himself. His hands were fidgeting incessantly, his gaze pinpointing across the room like he was marking all the exits for a quick retreat. Clary had scanned the room for every potential danger. There was nothing that should make him this twitchy. For all intents and purposes, Magnus should be elated today. After all, his heartmate was getting crowned in a few minutes. No one had shared the information explicitly with her, but that didn’t stop Clary from figuring it out. She was almost certain that he was one of Alec’s names, which was why none of the elements of the scene in front of her made any sense.

A horn blasted through the room, followed by the rhythmic tempo of military boots, and the hall fell into pregnant silence that was weaved through with an infectious excitement, and the throne room doors opened to a concession of decorated coats, as the first platoon, led by the War General moved in unison, twin lines parting the sea of congregated crowd as they went, carving a path from the doorway to the dais in the center, where the members of the Council of Idris were standing in full ceremonial regalia, waiting for Alec to appear.

As the lines of decorated soldiers settled into place, Jace spoke in a bellowing tenor that echoed in the cavernous room.

“All rise for His Imperial Highness, Alexander Gideon Lightwood III, Crown Prince of Idris”

Clary didn’t know why her eye jumped to Camille, almost certain that she would make some sign of insubordination, but to her surprise, the monarch simply dusted off her dress and stood, in unison with the rest of the audience, face expectant and serene. Clary’s heart started to pound in dismay. Something wasn’t right with this picture. Did Camille already have a sniper in place? Had Clary missed something in her infinite perusal of the room?

A clack of boots sounded from the edge of the room, and Alec came into view, his white Imperial coat gleaming, the golden strands weaved throughout catching the light. He looked every inch the Emperor, shoulders back, gloved hands resting on the golden bejeweled belt at his waist, to which a long thin blade was strapped. It wasn’t until Clary focused back on his face that it made sense. Magnus’ sketchy behavior, Camille’s calm collected one. She didn’t know how or when, but it appeared that Camille had already struck, and from the gauntness of Alec’s face and the dimness of his eyes, she had struck hard.

He looked like a man approaching a beheading block, feet weighed with lead as he moved forward sluggishly, his eyes trained forward with an intensity that told her he was forcing himself not to let them roam. It was only his luck that the ceremonial concession matched the pace with which he was moving, but she could tell that whatever had come over him must have been devastating.

On the fringe of the room where she had set up station, Clary had to watch in painfully detailed fashion, the world’s most somber coronation. It was made more so, by the fact that the crowd wasn’t privy to the undertone. It was like Alec had isolated himself in a block of ice, wisps of cold leaking from him, as the rest of the audience jollied in the merriment of the day.

She watched as he went down on his knees on a velvet cushion, head bowed as the Council members asked him to recite vows to protect the Empire and its people, formal intricacies that have been polished by age and tradition, and which Alec performed mechanically. All the life he was usually emanating was snuffed out in a pool of darkness that showed in the undersides of his eyes, like a flame strangled in airless room. As the weighty crown settled on his head, she could feel his shoulders shake with an exhale, like he’d been bracing for an interruption that hadn’t come. A quick glance at Isabelle and Jace told her that they felt their brother’s distress; twin frowns itched on their faces that they tried to hide.

Jace cleared his throat discreetly, and in the same bellowing tone, announced to the crowd, timed perfectly with Alec’s rise from his kneeling pose.

“Long live his Imperial Majesty, Alexander Gideon Lightwood III, Emperor of Idris”. She had never seen someone look simultaneously defeated, and larger than life.

“Long Live the Emperor”, the crowd replied cheerfully, the combined volume of their voices shaking the room. The chant went on for what felt like forever, until it was the only sound in the room. Clary noticed Magnus’ shoulders hunching on themselves the longer the chant went on, like pebbles were accosting his skin, and yet, he yelled along with everybody else, eyes trained on the man on the dais, as if daring him to look his way. She could feel the exact moment Alec looked at him. There, a minuscule flinch in his suit of armor, a tremor in his mouth before it was schooled back to imperial indifference. Clary felt a terrible malaise watching the two of them so clearly go through pain. It felt like she was encroaching on an intimate encounter, regardless of the bustle of the crowd.

When it became obvious that waiting for the noise to die down before moving forward with the allegiance ceremony was practically impossible –the crowd was too happy to bother with trivial things like ceremony-, King Lucian stepped forward, his towering height splitting the ranks of the crowd faster than a whip would. Unbothered by the noise, the man had a proud smile stretching his face. He moved up the center aisle at a subdued pace, his face shining with happiness. He reached the dais and dropped on one knee, fist against his heart as he recited the vow of allegiance.

“I, Lucian Greymark of Moon Country, recognize you, Alexander Gideon Lightwood III, as my liege and my Emperor. My people will be your people, my life forfeit for yours. May you reign long and true. Long live the Emperor of Idris”

He leaned forward, kissing the signet ring on Alec’s right hand, before inconspicuously winking at him. She could see Alec’s shoulders unwind a bit at the familiar gesture, and he even cracked a minuscule curve of the lips. He nodded at Lucian, before his voice echoed in the room, causing the excited chatter to wind down a bit. “Idris recognizes you and your country as its own, King Lucian”

Prince Meliorn was up next, followed by King Azazel. Clary could detect the slight chill in the air as he approached the dais. Alec’s expression was glacial, a blank impenetrable wall, but his eyes gave him away. They were swirling with such viciousness that for the first time Clary was scared of the man. She’d always known that he was capable of violence, but right then, she was sure that he could kill Azazel where he stood and not blink an eye. A glance at Magnus told her that the man was as pale as a dove, his usually rosy skin drained of blood. He was looking at Alec and Azazel intently, bracing himself for imminent disaster. So, whatever the secret had been, it had been found out, it appeared. It explained the taut tension in the air and the sorrow surrounding Alec and Magnus, but Clary was still uncomfortable with the unknown variables.

However, Alec didn’t interrupt the man’s vow as he pledged his country’s allegiance, though she could swear she heard him snort. It must’ve been her imagination. And then, it was Magnus’ turn, and he heaved a deep breath, squaring his shoulders before he stepped into the aisle, eyes trained on Alec defiantly, like the connection was the only thing stopping him from running from the hall and away from the whole ordeal.

From Clary’s vantage point, she could see the rough movement of his throat as he swallowed convulsively; she could detect the trembling of his fist as it rose to settle tightly above his heart. She could even detect the tremor in his voice, as he recited the vows, voice steadying with every word, like he was coming to believe the words he was uttering as he said them. It wasn’t until his hand rose to clasp Alec’s and bring it to his lips, that Clary could see the shimmering of his eyes, and realized that he was on the verge of distraught tears. Alec’s entire face crumbled at the sight, a mere moment before the wall rose once more, eclipsing his true feelings from the world. As Magnus’ lips approached the signet ring, she saw Alec’s hand flex, like he was about to withdraw it, and that more than the whole devastated scene, let Clary know the direness of the situation.

She had never seen two people’s hearts break in slow motion, pieces of them crumbling with every breath they took until she stood before this very tableau. It was probably callous of her, but her fingers itched for a brush. She wouldn’t paint them in dark tones and somber shades. No, their pain was in full technicolor, a vivid image of heartbreak and chagrin as two of the strongest people she had ever met caused each other immense pain. She would paint them in white, just as the pallor of their skin in this moment. She would paint them in blue, like the circles beneath Magnus’ eyes that told her of a long sleepless night. She would paint them in gold, like the memory of their happiness the night before shimmered before her eyes. She would paint them in rose, like the goggles through which they’d seemed to see the world in those moments. Life was fickle, and Alec and Magnus were proof, because the sorrow in them told her of unamendable chasm, when only a few hours prior, she would have wagered on their bond to be infinite.

She watched in morbid fascination as Magnus kissed Alec’s ring, and Alec’s hoarse cracking voice echoed in the room “Idris recognizes you and your country as its own, Prince Magnus”

People’s not-so-subtle nudges and excited whispers as they looked at the two men, who looked like they were away in their own realm, just went to prove that we would always see what we wanted to see in the world. Clary heard a woman whisper excitedly into her companion’s ear that the Council had asked the Emperor to find a spouse, and that there were rumors that he was considering Prince Magnus.

Clary wanted to snarl at them. Didn’t they see what she saw? Didn’t they understand that there would be no happiness, at least where the two of them were involved? She wanted to bash their heads together, but she consoled herself, that for people who lived every moment with calculated moves, feelings as elemental and as real as pain often went over their heads. They worked so hard to hide their feelings, spent so long dealing with double meanings and two-faced gestures, that they failed to understand something as simple as openly feeling grief, loss, pain.

Magnus stepped down from the dais, walking down the aisle briskly, shaking Clary from the whispers of her chattering neighbors. He walked determinedly down the path, and where he should have slipped past the guards to join the ranks of adoring nobility, he turned back one more time, looking at Alec, who was already focused on the slithering Queen of DuMort as she walked towards him. Seemingly appeased that no one paid him any heed, he slipped down the hall instead, exiting the room quietly. Unable to quell her curiosity, and the twisting of her stomach, Clary followed him on quiet feet.

He didn’t go back to his rooms, and didn’t roam the palace grounds. Instead, he walked straight through to the front courtyard, where she could see his valet ordering a couple of servants to finish strapping in wooden chests. He was leaving?

“Your Highness”, she said, and Magnus’ momentary stop was the only clue that he heard her. He otherwise kept on going, and Clary couldn’t help her chuckle. The only person more obstinate than him that she knew, was herself.

“Magnus”, she tried instead, and this time, he turned around, although he still didn’t stop, walking backwards.

“Go back inside, Clary. The ceremony is still underway”, he said resolutely.

She couldn’t help rolling her eyes. He had to work on his commanding voice. He was nowhere near as terrifying as Alec, and even that one didn’t terrify her in the first place.

“Where are you going?”, she asked instead, and he took a garment from his valet and exchanged his formal coat for a leather riding coat, more flexible and more comfortable and replied distractedly “Home, Clary. I’m going home”

“What happened? You and Alec were practically catatonic in there. What happened yesterday?”

“Nothing important. I was here for the ceremony, and the ceremony is over”

“You just said it’s still underway”, she couldn’t help herself.

He finally stopped and looked at her, and she was surprised to find fondness in his gaze “You remind me of a cousin of mine. She’s always finding loopholes to get me to spill all my secrets. And you’re right. The ceremony is still underway, but my part is over. It’s time for me to leave”

“What about Alec? What about your plans? What about Camille?”, she asked in quick succession, fully aware that the servants were going back inside, done stacking the luggage together.

“We’re ready when you are, Your Highness”, a rider told Magnus, who gave him a nod of acknowledgment.

He turned back to Clary, putting on his leather gloves “Alec will be fine. He’s proved that nothing can shake him, so he will be”. She couldn’t help thinking there was a lot to decipher in that sentence.

“Camille, well, has no cards to play, so she’s going to be sorely disappointed, but I still don’t feel like dealing with her slimy attitude, so I’m going home. After all, I have nothing left here”. He hesitated, and then quietly urged her “Don’t let her play with his head. Remember your threats, Assassin. Protect him, lest she gets her talons into him”

“As for our plans”, he sighed and Clary could finally detect the actual pain he was harboring inside. “Well, you can’t really work with someone who doesn’t trust you. I doubt anything I say will hold weight to Alexander, but I promise you, I’ll do my best to help. I just can’t do it here”

“If you won’t tell me what’s wrong, Magnus, I can’t help”, she insisted, trying to salvage something.

Magnus simply smiled and said “You were right. My secrets caught up to me, and it appears that they were enough to ruin everything”. The hint of bitterness in his words was unmistakable.

“Then your solution is to run? Stay and try to get him to understand”

“How? By begging? Groveling? No, Clary. There’s nothing here for me to save. Even I know when to give up”. He got in his saddle with the ease of a seasoned rider, and turned to her one last time “See, the thing about finally realizing that you’re worth something, Clary, is that you become protective of that worth. You’re unwilling to part with it, even for the people you love most, even for the people who helped you find that worth to begin with”

The words clanged through Clary with a resounding thud. It was like he was speaking to her very soul. Wasn’t that what she’d done, when she’d decided to make something of her soul other than break it with every assignment, with every new job where she got to walk away and the other person didn’t? How could she begrudge him the feeling when she herself would kill anyone who dared threaten her newfound freedom?

Yet, Clary couldn’t help but feel like she was saying goodbye to an old friend as she looked at Magnus, who’d given the signal to his carriage to start for the front gates. He waved his hand and said, his voice carrying on the wind as his steed readied to gallop away “Take care of yourself, Clary, and keep an eye on Alexander, would you?”

She knew in her heart that their story was far from over, and as she watched the gates close after his departing retinue, she tried to convince herself that she would see Prince Magnus again soon. She felt her lips curve in a smile as she walked back inside, and muttered to herself “He still called him Alexander”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3  
> Let me know what you think is going to happen now, what you think of both Alec and Magnus' reactions. Just chatter at me in the comments below :)
> 
> See you soon for another update xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the prompt and for being awesome Su <3
> 
> Thank you for reading ! If you liked it, make sure to leave a Kudos or a comment <3


End file.
